Wanderer's Home arc 3: Ezara's Team
by Gatekat
Summary: G1. Two and a half years after Ezara crashes on Earth, the first of her command crew arrive and the Tezita participation in Cybertron's war goes from theory to a very disturbing fact.
1. Taking Skywarp

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Starscream/Skyfire, Jazz/Ezara, Skywarp/Ezara, Mirage/Tarinash, others  
_Rating_: NC-17 for M/M, M/F  
_Codes_: Het, Slash  
_Summary_: Two and a half years after Ezara crashes on Earth, the first of her command crew arrive and the Tezita participation in Cybertron's war goes from theory to a very disturbing fact.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home arc 3 pt 01: Taking Skywarp**

* * *

Jazz had only been half-listening to Prowl give Sideswipe a public dressing down over the latest batch of illegal high-grade the SIC had found and confiscated. The first few times had been amusing, but after hundreds of vorn of it, he knew every variant by spark. Prowl was thorough, but not imaginative. So it was understandable that it took Jazz a moment to realize that Prowl had changed focus.

It actually took a new voice to make the Intel Op notice Prowl was no longer focused on Sideswipe. In fact no one was anymore. All attention had gone to the door.

Jazz actually had to reset his optics a couple times to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

He had no doubt that most had focused on the black and purple Seeker slung unconscious over Ezara's shoulder. It was the obvious thing. He'd been expecting her to return with him though, as was Prowl. No, what had both SIC and TIC's attention was the small stasis jar in her other hand.

A low groan escaped Jazz's vocalizer as he stood, taking his mostly-finished cube standard grade in one hand as he grabbed Prowl's elbow when he passed in the other.

~Not in public, Prowl,~ he insisted as he all but hauled the ranking officer out of the rec room and motioned for Ezara to continue to med bay.

She looked positively smug.

"We've got another mech for stasis and cold storage," Prowl told Ratchet when they arrived. "Looks like Ezara decided it was time to pick up Skywarp."

Ratchet grunted and waved towards an open berth without really looking at them.

"And another newborn spark in stasis," Jazz added.

Ratchet whirled around in absolute fury that didn't seem to faze Ezara as she laid Skyward down far more gently than her casual sling over the shoulder would have suggested.

"You did _what_?" Ratchet demanded, his optics flashing.

"I made a youngling spark with him," she answered calmly. "He's far too valuable to not have at least one."

"The parts you're looking for are mechanical, not part of his spark," Ratchet told her bluntly. "Maybe the know-how is part of him, but the parts themselves are _parts_."

"Not according to initial scans," she shrugged and walked over to the cabinet where the other stasis jar resided. "It's part of him the same way Intel's part of Jazz and low-emotion, high-logic is part of Prowl," she inclined her head towards them. "I don't know if the teleport came through, but I'm quite sure flight did."

"Those are _skills_ not... oh, never mind, I'll put it with the other one," Ratchet grumbled, opening the storage cabinet. "Hope your friends bring the supplies they'll need with them. Just hope you didn't short out Skywarp's spark this time. Did he at least know what you were doing?"

"I know what I'm doing when I'm expecting it," Ezara said with a huff. "And no. I do not feel like spending the next month explaining Tezita reproduction to him. I seriously doubt he could grasp it even if I did. Smart is not one of his assets."

"So now that you know we recover from it, you're not worried about the idea of consent anymore?" Prowl asked sharply. "Because this time, you _did_ plan on it before it actually happened."

Jazz winced and Ratchet looked ready to clock her when she leveled a gaze on the shorter mech, not that Prowl found her annoyance at all disturbing.

"Consent, as you put it, is for civvies and allies," she informed him evenly. "Skywarp is neither."

"Excuse me?" Prowl demanded, his optics flaring more brightly. "So what you're saying is that it's perfectly fine for you to rip out a piece of his spark because you _want_ to? He's not some animal!"

Ezara cocked her head slightly, too puzzled by the reaction to take offence. "Yes," she answered evenly, a hint of curiosity in her manner at the idea it wouldn't be. "I'm not an animal either, but the rules apply to me too."

"This is where I point out she operates on a different social standard," Jazz said quietly, though he found it no less disturbing. "Consent is rare beyond acceptance of the order."

"You're telling me that it's perfectly acceptable on your world for any superior to just take what they want from a subordinate?" Prowl asked her, sounding sick at the thought. "What sort of slag-pit slave shop did you come out of?" He asked, the words coming out before he could even think about them.

"_I_ came off the street, then the gladiatorial arena," she replied a bit sharply, though she was still far too perplexed to be angry yet. "And no, it's not. It's perfectly acceptable to _breed_ with one for the good of the military. The Si'Mir usually oversees such things, but as the ranking officer with the training, that duty falls to me for now."

"And you couldn't have taken the time, even to _try_ and explain it to him, and get him to _agree_? He probably wouldn't have cared if he understood or not!" Prowl snapped at her. "But you didn't even _try_, because you couldn't be bothered to care what he might think, or about the fact that there are _rules_ about what you do with a captured enemy!"

Ezara really leveled her gaze at him, now slightly miffed. "One; he's _my_ prisoner, not yours. I am following the rules, and then some. I don't have to be nearly this nice to him, even by _his_ standards. Two; I did no permanent damage. What are you complaining about?"

"The fact that what you did _should_ put you in the brig for metacycles," Prowl told her. "What happened with Jazz would have, but you didn't intend to do anything - I _thought_ you knew that."

She made a disgruntled sound but Jazz spoke before she could put her reaction into words.

"That would have _also_ required me to file a complaint," Jazz defended her, and himself, sharply as he glared at the SIC.

"Enough!" Ratchet's bellow stopped the social and legal debate that was brewing into a full-scale maelstrom. "You three," he stabbed a finger at them. "Prime's office. Now. I'll check black-boy out and get him into stasis."

"Make sure his spark wasn't be damaged by the process," Prowl warned Ratchet, turning to lead the others out. He knew that, legally, he didn't have a leg to stand on - Skywarp would had certainly agreed to the _first_ part, and Cybertronian law and regulations didn't _have_ a concept like this. Maybe it was time that it developed one.

The most he could get her on right now would be some kind mishandling of a POW, which required that Skywarp be damaged, physically or psychologically, by what she did. Both were highly unlikely, given Jazz had turned out just fine and the Decepticon's concept of damaged was not something Prowl enjoyed contemplating.

It all added up to a very irate tactician by the time they reached Prime's office.

"Enter," the leader's voice rumbled with an edge of displeasure to the buzzer requesting entry.

"Optimus," Prowl said respectfully as he stepped in, glancing to the side to see who the Guard on duty was. He wasn't entirely sure whether to be pleased or worried to see Crashcourse in the corner nod a small greeting to Skjöldur as the femme took a spot across from him in the office.

"Prowl, Ezara, Jazz," he nodded to them, sitting at his desk as he faced a delicate situation. "Ratchet sent me the basics of what happened," he began without preamble. "While I understand how disturbing this is to you and him," his gaze lingered on Prowl. "This is a debate for this room and no where else."

"Understood, sir," Prowl nodded. "I'm sorry I brought it up in Medbay."

"I still don't understand what has him so worked up," Ezara spoke.

"A much more explicit consent oriented programming core," Optimus explained in a way he hoped would offend none of them. "As Prowl sees it, if Skywarp did not explicitly agree to the youngling, it was against his will. Any assault to the spark is an extremely serious one on Cybertron."

The mechs let silence hold for several moments as she worked that over, taking it apart and running it through logic and social processors several times before some level of comprehension seemed to dawn on her.

She looked over at Prowl with a frown that was more thoughtful than upset. "I suppose that's to be expected of a law-enforcer. He never objected. I _didn't_ hurt him. I wouldn't," her voice dropped a little into the softness Jazz knew. "Nothing will be expected of him after the youngling is born."

"Even so, he should have had some say in whether or not one _was_," Prowl tried to explain, her apparent inability to grasp this being a problem completely baffling to him. "It's like I said before - he probably would have agreed anyway. If we brought him back online he'd probably agree right before he teleported out. But not even giving him the chance to do _that_... we don't reproduce the same way you do, I accept that. And that means that we've got different views of things like this. But I can't understand how you can be so calm about all of this."

"Because it's how I was taught," she told him. "This is my duty, an important one. I could probably _show_ you, but I'm not sure your logic center could handle just how different many of the basics are. I'd rather not endure another of Ratchet's lectures about not glitching the officers."

Prowl's optics narrowed slightly, and Jazz had to stifle a snicker behind his hand.

"He seemed to think that several subjects should be avoided around you, and I really needed to stop avoiding the cameras," she shrugged.

"Did you?" Optimus asked, concealing his own amusement.

"Unless I needed to go somewhere unseen," she gave him a polite smile. "Once they came along," she motioned to the Guard, "it was rather moot. Though Whippoorwill is good at sneaking around when she feels like it."

"I'm sure," he nodded and settled a bit now that things seemed to be more civilized.

"I'm not sure that I necessarily want to understand that sort of view of things," Prowl admitted, sensing that Optimus wanted to try and move on from a debate that they couldn't resolve.

She nodded, apparently not offended by it.

"Very well," Optimus drew their attention to him. "Ezara, I understand your desires in this, and it is not expressly forbidden by Autobot law simply for lack of any precedent. However, it is something we would have forbidden if the prospect had ever occurred to us. I want your word that from here on express permission will be obtained from any Cybertronian before a youngling is produced with them."

"I agree, within the scope of my authority for the duration of my debt to you," she said formally. It was clear to the two mechs who knew her well that she was anything but happy with it. "We will discuss this in far more detail with the Si'Mir when she arrives. The breeding programs are her purview by right."

"Of course," Optimus nodded slightly. "An issue for another time; hopefully it won't be long either way."

Ezara nodded and he flicked his gaze to Prowl, who seemed satisfied enough. At the very least there would not be a repeat of today.

"Is this binding on Mitrix and Singer?" Prowl asked before they could be dismissed.

"Yes," Ezara answered with a flick of her chin.

"Then you are dismissed," Optimus told them. "Prowl, a moment," he stopped his SIC from leaving with Ezara and Jazz. "As difficult as it may be, I must advise you against any attempt to analyze the Tezita unless you are willing to understand the basic culture their actions are built on. It is not as illogical as Ratchet seems to think, but it is not a comfortable thing to examine either."

"I understand, Prime," Prowl nodded slightly. "She was talking about stripping out parts of people's sparks like it was her right to do so simply because she outranked them. That sort of attitude... it's dangerous. Terrifying, in somebody with her rank."

"It is less disturbing when you know the process that arrived at today as ... intimately as Jazz and I do," he knew he was trying to sooth the tactician without incurring Ratchet's wrath by glitching him. "She has been planning this since she met him, well before she had any rank as a Decepticon, or any thought of allying with us.

"I do agree completely that she holds entirely too much power, as does the Si'Mir, it is a well-established and stable government that has lasted longer than our own. Mitrix ruled from roughly fourteen to twelve and a half million metacycles years ago, and arguably held power for much of the million before that. Her rule marks the beginning of their modern age."

"I know, Prime," Prowl tried to see where this was going when it hit him. They were not just more powerful than all of Cybertron's forces, they had existed in a stable, well-regulated cycle of leadership, no matter how violent, for as long as Cybertron had been free of the Quinessons, if not longer. "Oh," he murmured. Without willing it, his battle computer provided him with every allied and neutral race he knew of, comparing relative kill rates during war, frequency of wars, stability of the economy, care for civilians and advancements over time. Against planet after planet, Lydrom did well in the ranking.

It was just that none of those other worlds had a race that interacted in quite the same way as the Tezita could.

"While you are free to learn for yourself, Jazz and I both agree that for all there are portions of the Tezita culture that are at best disturbing, Ezara has little interest in imposing those ways on allies. Jazz indicated she was very contrite about what happened to him. Her different view on Skywarp may be because he is an enemy, or it may be because she already views him as a warrior in her army and thus subject to Lydrom's laws. We have agreed to her challenging Megatron for leadership of the Decepticons. If she succeeds, the Cons will fall under her rule, rather than mine, as the war ends."

Prowl nodded again, slowly, as he reprocessed information he largely already knew along with the new bits presented.

He glanced at Crashcourse and stepped up to the large desk, placing his hand, palm up, on the smooth surface. Without hesitation, Optimus placed his hand over Prowls and dropped his outer level of firewalls.

~Do you have a tactician working on how to deal with them if they become conquers instead of liberators?~ Prowl asked quietly, his optics locked on Prime's.

~Yes. Noitefel is on the task,~ Optimus answered after a split-nanoklik to decide whether or not to bring his SIC into the exceedingly small circle of those in the know. ~As a campaign tactician, he is better suited to the task. Jazz is the only other one to know of his work.~

~I understand,~ Prowl's stress lightened considerably as he broke the connection. "Thank you, Prime. I will leave dealing with Tezita politics in your capable hands."

"While you deal with out-planning the Decepticon's latest plot," Optimus teased him lightly before Prowl left.


	2. Waking Starscream

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Skyfire/Starscream  
_Rating_: PG-13  
_Codes_: Slash  
_Summary_: It's been more than a year since Starscream submitted to Mitrix. While the de-Forge process has gone several times faster than Ratchet had calculated, it has gone well.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home arc 3 pt 02: Waking Starscream**

* * *

Systems onlined slowly, one by one, most critical to least. Each one examined reflexively and found all to be in good working order.

He couldn't place where he was, or how long he'd been in stasis, or even what kind of stasis he'd been in.

As the last of his systems booted, he traced his way to his most resent memories.

A terrible storm. Snow everywhere. Ice. Cold and howling winds battered his sleek frame. The frantic, horrible feeling of having lost the one closest to him somewhere below.

"Skyfire," his voice was weak and pained to his audios.

"I'm here, Star," the most familiar voice in his life responded, strong and calm, along with an outpouring of relief, reassurance and love across a bond that had been battered over whatever had happened.

He onlined his optics a little too quickly and turned his face to the side while he lifted an arm to shield from the bright lights until he adjusted. A large, strong hand clasped his left shoulder in comfort and a wide wing shadowed his face.

"Skyfire?" he looked up, trying to work out what had happened between his memory of searching and now.

"Ratchet said you'd be confused at first," the giant flier smiled down. "It's okay. A lot's happened since the storm."

"Yes, the storm," Starscream murmured, looking up and focusing on the familiar face, the trace of worry and a lot of relief etched into calm features. "Where are we?"

"The Ark. Safe," Skyfire said.

Starscream accepted it as he became aware that there were others in the room, but some distance away. Probably on the far side of what he was gathering to be a medical bay.

"When did I become the injured one?" he gave a slight smile to the mech above him and returned the affection and relief across their bond, strengthen the link with everything he had.

"After I crashed. You were so badly injured, left damaged for a long time," Skyfire answered soothingly. "How do you feel?"

"Like I spent a dozen vorn in that storm before a crash and burn," he reached up to brush his fingers along Skyfire's cheekplate. "Systems are good though," he added at Skyfire's concerned expression. "I think my wings were ripped off. They ache. Everything aches a little."

"They were at least twice," he nodded and leaned down to brush their lips together ever so lightly. "I've missed you, Star."

"Tell me there's a private room for us on this Ark," Starscream didn't hold back the whisper of a moan as he tried to continue and deepen the kiss, sending the full strength of his desires across their contact. It was desire that burned from the need to connect, to convince himself that they were both alive and this was real. He didn't care if the others here saw, but he still remembered how shy Skyfire could be.

Skyfire gasped, shocked by the intensity, but quickly gathered his wits and nodded. He glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to Starscream.

"You'll be the death of me yet," he whispered with a smile and picked up the smaller flier with familiar ease. Over nine million Earth years, some twenty-one thousand vorn, may have passed for the universe and Cybertron, but for them both it had barely been anything; a matter of minutes for Starscream and only a local year and a half for Skyfire.

"Mmm, I never hear you complain for real," Starscream chuckled and relaxed in the arms that had always made him feel safe. It didn't matter that he had the better combat reflexes or instincts. Skyfire's size was as comforting as it could be intimidating.

He snuggled against Skyfire's chest and kissed his throat playfully, his arms wrapped securely around the larger mech's neck. Two Autobot mechs and an alien femme of a vaguely related lineage where standing at a distance, watching everything.

The white and red Autobot medic didn't seem thrilled, but wasn't angry either. Most likely just displeased that a patient was leaving like this. Standard medic response.

The red Autobot - Perceptor, his memory supplied - smiled faintly. He'd have to ask him for some details later. Perceptor always was good to chat up for the latest scientific events and breakthroughs, even if he wasn't good for anything social.

The alien ... she was something to look at. The brightest, most elaborate paint job he'd ever seen. Body language of high rank and a seasoned warrior. Even though he picked out five insignia, four down her centerline and one on her shoulder, none were even close to something he recognized, historical, modern or alien.

They passed several more mechs in the hallway, all with the Autobot symbol emblazoned on them. All looked at him; curious, uncertain, a touch hostile.

This was not Cybertron, he was sure of it, but where? Had they been in frozen stasis long enough that an Autobot expedition had found them?

"You're thinking too much, Star," Skyfire murmured as a door slid open in the hallway just ahead of them. "What about?"

"How we got from the storm to here," he answered truthfully. "How long we were in stasis."

"I'll tell you everything, after you're convinced we're both alive and real," Skyfire smiled and stepped inside a room sized for him.

"I think you've been awake noticeably longer than I have," Starscream murmured as he took in the place. While it wasn't decorated to speak of, it was customized to his partner on a level that spoke of more than a few orn in residence. The Autobot insignia on Skyfire's chest spoke of a great deal of his partner's life missed, or at least something significant.

"Not long, just long enough," Skyfire smiled down at him as the door slid shut behind them. He laid Starscream on the large berth, one close to the size they'd shared on their ship before visiting this world so long ago. "Barely a fifth of a metacycle."

"Still, to join the war," Starscream murmured, tracing the bright red insignia that stood out so sharply against his partner's pristine white paint.

Skyfire shivered at the touch and lowered himself over Starscream, claiming a kiss to silence him. "Later," he insisted. "They've been working on you almost as long as I've been awake."

Starscream's optics went wide. "That long?" he couldn't help but stammer, trying to wrap his processors around the level of damage that would have required. "How did..." he was silenced by another kiss, and this time surrendered to it. It wasn't as if he didn't want what was being offered. "You didn't do this," he touched the Autobot insignia, "so they would repair me, did you?"

"No," Skyfire promised, his lips moving against the hypersensitive leading edge of Starscream's wing next to his hip before he began a long, slow trail of kisses along it.

"Good," Starscream moaned and reached out to caress the large wings above him. "Wouldn't want..." his thought was lost as a glossa that knew his every sensory node and hot spot went to work. "Primus!" he gasped, his entire body pressing upwards against his much larger partner.

* * *

"So ... willing to talk now?" Starscream murmured as he gently stroked Skyfire's chest, playing his fingers along the outline of the bright red Autobot insignia.

"Yes," he nodded, bringing an arm up to caress between Starscream's wings along his back strut and smiled at the quiver it caused. "Just understand this first. What happened to you was beyond traumatic. In saving your life, they had to do so much ... replace so many parts. Not even Ratchet was sure you'd pull though until a few orn ago. So much was damaged..."

"Like my memory banks?" he guessed. "Is that why I don't remember anything between starting the search for you and when I onlined a few joor ago?"

"Like that," Skyfire nodded and kissed the smaller flier on top of him gently. "I was in stasis on this world for over nine and a half ganon," he began quietly. "Nine and a half million local stellar cycles. You don't remember finding me because you didn't," he paused at the horrified shock on Starscream's face and gently stroked his back until the sleek jet settled down. "You went home, joined the war, went through the Forge at Kaon. You eventually came back to Earth, the world we'd been exploring four and a half ganon before."

"I joined the war ... as what?" he demanded, already fairly sure of the answer from the looks they'd - _he'd_ - gotten from Autobots in the hall.

"Not an Autobot," Skyfire confirmed reluctantly, watching Starscream's face for every reaction with just a bit of trepidation.

"Why'd they 'save' me then?" Starscream asked, trying to justify the resources it must have taken to do this to him.

"I'm getting there," Skyfire told him. "Let me get the timeline down for you first."

"All right," Starscream sighed, his optics powering down briefly at the continued touch along his back and wings.

"The crews of both the Autobot Ark and Decepticon Nemesis crashed landed, putting everyone in stasis until three and a half stellar cycles ago; point six six metacycle. Roughly two hundred and twenty orn later, the alien, Ezara, crashed on Earth. I hadn't been revived yet, but while she was with the Decepticons, she became quite attached to one of them, a Seeker named Skywarp.

"After I was revived, I told her about who you were when I knew you, and she agreed to have you be the last test subject before Skywarp," he murmured, still stroking Starscream's back as the scientist absorbed all this, and what hadn't been said.

"Was I willing, at first?" he asked softly, his optics turned off. He felt the sigh under him.

"No, you weren't," Skyfire admitted. "You were beyond insane, even for a long-time Decepticon. Megatron even acknowledged it, though he didn't see fit to try and help you."

"Maybe I didn't want to be 'helped'," Starscream glared at him, though he couldn't keep much anger with the gentle touches along his back. "Maybe I liked what I was."

"A psychotic, power-hungry mass murderer with no regard for anything, not even science?" Skyfire looked up at him, his expression too serious for the 'you're joking' comment he knew would come next. "The Forge did something horrible to you, Star. It twisted your mind. Drove you insane. It did that to every single mech that went through it. If you really want to know what you'd become, there are records en mass from both sides. You weren't low-profile by any definition."

"Oh," he murmured, still struggling with this. "What kind of pull do you have with Ezara, that she'd do this for you?"

"Very little," he said, catching the surprise above him. "She didn't do it for me. She did it because she sympathized with what you'd been through, respected what you were before, or something. She went from plotting the most sadistic way to kill you to working on curing you of her own accord."

Starscream eyed him, running calculations. "Why did she want to hurt me so badly?"

"The same reason she switched sides," Skyfire said softly. "You blew her up, in a trap. It nearly killed her."

"I ... oh Primus," he murmured, his body stiffening and optics widening in shock. "And she doesn't plan on holding that against me?"

"No, love," Skyfire assured him with a gentle kiss. "She's forgiven you. Optimus Prime has pardoned you. You have a clean record, no faction marks. You have a fresh start; the war never happened for you."

"What about you?" he caressed the insignia on Skyfire's chest.

"I am free to leave them if I wish," he promised, his hands moving out along Starscream's wings. "I ... hope ... you will consider staying, at least until the war is over. You've been pardoned, but a lot of bots out there still consider your wings a major prize, and unlike Ezara, they won't leave your Spark intact when they take them."

"You sound like you expect it to end soon," he cocked his head at the larger bot below him, making a mental note to _never_ piss that sadistic alien off if he could help it.

"With the forces coming, it will be," Skyfire assured him gently. "Twelve hundred Tezita warriors like Ezara will arrive in roughly a thousand orn. It is beyond an overwhelming force."

"And if I was still a Decepticon in a thousand orn, they'd shoot my Spark out," Starscream guessed.

"Yes," he nodded. "If the Decepticons don't submit to her, it will be a slaughter."

"I don't see a better choice, for now," Starscream murmured, resting his head on Skyfire's broad chest. "I will stay, but I'd prefer to remain unmarked."

"Prime agreed to that," Skyfire stroked his wings gently, drawing a soft, pleasured sound from his lover. "Once Ratchet and Ezara sign off on your medical release, you'll even have a lab of your own and a lot of time for it."

"How will I pay for my keep?" he asked evenly.

"I will, with a little help from Ezara," he smiled gently. "At least until you're on your feet again and know what you're willing to do."

"Why would _she_ help?" Starscream glared suspiciously.

"Because I value a sharp scientific mind, even on the front line with limited resources," a female voice answered him with the hiss of the door opening, causing both mechs to jump slightly and Starscream to raise his arm, pointing directly at her. "You'll get those back when Ratchet and I are both convinced the treatment worked," she said conversationally. "Probably in a few solar cycles."

"Them?" Starscream looked at her, then at his raised arm, and realized she meant his null-rays. Okay, that made sense. He had been an enemy. Taking his weapons was reasonable. She definitely didn't _act_ like someone plotting his demise.

"Time for energon, both of you," she drew attention to the three cubes she was carrying as she sat down on the edge of the berth and all but pushed one into Starscream's hand. "You know, I didn't realize until you walked out of Medical just how good you two look together. Did you choose your markings together?"

Skyfire felt his temperature rise at the question and didn't meet her optics as he and Starscream shifted so they could sit up and drink.

"Yes," Starscream answered for them with a slight smile for his bashful partner. "We were both repainted just before our first expedition together. You really aren't angry anymore over what I did?"

"Megatron was to blame for that more than you," she told him honestly. "I wasn't trying for the position and he knew it was likely to happen if I didn't kill you first, and I doubt he really cared which way it went. A Decepticon camp is a very toxic environment. Now, if you try it _again_, I won't be so understanding," she warned with a teasing look. "Only Wheeljack gets away with unplanned explosions around here."

"He's grandfathered in, so to speak," Skyfire chucked, sipping on his energon.

"Or maybe Prime just has a soft spot for him," Ezara shrugged with a snicker. She patted Starscream's leg as she stood. "When you feel up for testing your wings, let me know. It's not safe to fly alone out there, especially not for you."

"Umm, thank you," Starscream inclined his head to her, earning a warm smile before she departed as silently as she'd arrived. "How many of them are on the Ark?" turned to Skyfire.

"Just her, but a handful more are expected any orn," he smiled and kissed Starscream's forehead. "The big ships'll arrive in a thousand orn or so."

"Only a thousand orn, and the Pits will open up for anything that's pissed her off," Starscream murmured thoughtfully, drinking his energon slowly.

"By all accounts, yes," Skyfire nodded and slid an arm around Starscream's back, cupping the sleek jet's hip in his large hand.

Starscream finished his energon and leaned against Skyfire for a long moment. "Is Skywarp willing?"

"Once you account for his nerves, yes," he nodded. "He's pretty attached to her, even knowing he'll be one of several lovers at best."

"As opposed to?" Starscream looked up.

"Her official mate, or Spark-bonded," Skyfire smiled gently at his own bonded. "She's bound by her rank to take an official mate as a co-ruler, and it has to be someone of a specific type."

"Sounds like it's all politics and no emotion," he sighed. "I'm glad we don't have those kinds of pressures."

"Me too, Star. Me too," Skyfire murmured and leaned down to kiss the top of Starscream's head.

* * *

"Come, you'll see," Skyfire urged his reluctant partner towards the common room two days and four 'test flights' later. They could both hear that it was full and buzzing with activities; games, happy shouting, the TV and the general noise of off-duty life on a front-line military base.

"I don't know, they..."

"You've been pardoned, love," he reminded him firmly. "Optimus Prime is there. If anyone causes trouble, they'll hear about it from him. And Ratchet, who spent a year repairing you. And Ezara, who invested far too much energy into you not to protect you. Remember when the Rainmakers tried to chase you down?"

"I out flew them," Starscream nodded.

"And she blasted them out of the sky," the giant flier smiled and moved Starscream forward with a hand against his back. "You'll see. Most have accepted already. You'll charm the rest. Just be yourself."

"Be myself, in a room full of ground pounders?" Starscream eyed his lover warily. "They _will_ kill me."

"Don't be like that," Skyfire chided him just outside the common room door. "You're a charmer. Just be your usual charming self," he repeated before opening the door. Almost two dozen sets of optics and half-dozen eyes looked up and towards the door to see who was joining them.

Starscream froze. A gentle shove against his back got him moving, and he immediately latched onto the only familiar face there; the alien femme. Sitting next to her was a red and blue mech as tall as she was. Optimus Prime, his processor suggested from the size and bearing. Two black and white mechs and a red one were sitting at the table as well.

"Come over and sit with us," Optimus half stood and motioned the fliers over.

Ezara's grin backed his words up, though the look made Starscream nervous too. She wanted something.

"Come on, I don't bite unless ya ask me too," she laughed easily and poured two glasses from a stash the table seemed to have exclusive rights to.

Starscream took in the looks of the officers - he was sure that's who the other three were - and walked over to join them without Skyfire having to encourage him any further.

"Thank you," he accepted the glass as they sat down. "Optimus Prime, correct?"

"Yes," he nodded. "You've met The Toe'Emirc of Lydrom, Ezara Onyan'a of the Vistra," he nodded to the alien femme on his right.

"Ezara," she held up her hand, waving off the full title. "Unless there's a need to be formal."

"All right," Starscream nodded, taking in her chaotic but athletically pleasing paint job at closer range.

"It's part Lydrom, part Sunny," she chuckled and motioned towards Sunstreaker. "The yellow Lamborghini's our resident artist, among other things."

"Good to know," Starscream murmured, his attention on Prime for the rest of the introductions.

"Jazz, my Third in Command," he motioned to the smaller of the two black and white mechs, the one with a bright blue visor, who seemed quite happy to be all but in Ezara's lap.

"Goo'ta see ya up an' about, man," Jazz grinned at him.

"Thank you," Starscream nodded to him even as he wondered what dialect it was. Certainly language could evolve over the nine and a half ganon he didn't remember or wasn't awake for, but this was extreme. Prime's Third in Command was barely understandable!

"Prowl, my Second in Command," Optimus indicated the black and white mech to his left.

He was larger than Jazz and had door-wings, but the real difference as far as Starscream was concerned was in their demeanor. Jazz, as hard as he was to understand, had an open, vital zest for life and a relaxed command of everything and everyone around him. Prowl ... he could be a robot and not a mech for all he seemed to be alive.

"And Ironhide, my Head of Security," Optimus indicated the red mech on Prowl's left.

"Not to sound ungrateful for everything you've done, but..." Starscream briefly glanced at a mid-sized red mech who was eyeing him. "Who should I be careful of?"

"The Lambo twins, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe," Ezara motioned towards the pair with her chin. "They're both warriors more than soldiers, and our resident troublemakers along with Bumblebee and Hot Rod when they're around. None of them have much against you personally, but it won't save you from pranking.

"Brawn and Gears are the two who really don't like you, though Gears doesn't like _anybody_, so don't take that too personally. The Dinobots and Aerialbots are probably worth being careful around until you're sure they're okay. The Dinobots can get things stuck in their processors. The Aerialbots, well, they're a friendly bunch for the most part, but they do have something of a personal grudge against Seekers in general, and you still _look_ like a Seeker."

"A Seeker?" Starscream looked at her. "An entire frame-type went to one side?"

"Pretty much," she nodded. "They're the Decepticon elite; combat-designed fliers like yourself. Typically found in trines of three. Thundercracker is the only one of the Star Trine left in Megatron's service now than Skywarp's begun the process."

Starscream looked at her, then at Skyfire, then Optimus, and paused to sip the fine high-grade energon he'd been given as he rolled all that around in his processors.

"How close are these trines?" he eventually asked.

"It depends on the trine," Ezara smiled gently at him. "Some are Spark-bound three ways, though I haven't actually encountered one that I know of. Others are bound by training and long service together, as lovers or not. These days, many are simply assigned to each other as trines loose a member or two. According to Skywarp, the Star Trine fell in the second category. You'd been together a long time, but there wasn't much beyond that and the shared goal of surviving Megatron's rages."

"Do you think Thundercracker will defect as well?" he asked quietly.

Ezara leaned back and sipped her glittering black energon. "In many ways, he's the easiest of the three to get to defect. The trouble is that he has no reason to. He has nothing here, we have nothing to offer, and his issues with 'ground dwellers' in as deeply ingrained as anything I've dealt with. I do have good hope that he will not object to my rule when I challenge Megatron for the Decepticons."

"If he accepts you, what then?" Starscream asked, unaccountably concerned for the welfare of this mech he didn't even know the face of but had apparently spent much of his life fighting alongside.

"That depends on him," Ezara said gently. "He will be given the same choice as all Decepticons. They may keep their Forge-granted upgrades, knowing what it is doing to them, and be sent to fight in my wars until they are off-lined for good, or they may undergo the procedure you went through and rejoin Cybertron society without faction markings. Or they may challenge me, or go rouge, and be put down."

Starscream nodded, taking in the fact that this plan was not news to the Autobot officers. It would probably have relatively few casualties on the Decepticon side, only those who were personally loyal to Megatron, and none to speak of among Autobots and Neutrals.

If it worked, it was a good way to end the war.

"Now, I'd like to talk about a contract," Ezara became all business as she focused on Starscream, though she was still relaxed and lightly stroking Jazz' side. "I wish to buy exclusive rights to your null-ray technology."

"Buy ... exclusive rights?" Starscream's bright gold optics got a little brighter in visible shock. "O-okay. We can talk."

"Three million credits up front," she raised a hand to stop his reaction. "Let me finish. I know it's low. There is a royalty of five credits per weapon using the technology or its derivatives to you or your estate - whoever you name to inherit when you're off-line for good.

"I wish to make it the standard secondary weapon of my military and the primary weapon of the civil police. The initial production run for the sidearms will be roughly eleven billion units, with an additional fifty million expected every vorn to replace those damaged and arm new recruits. Heavy riffle, tank and ship variants will be in much lower numbers," she paused to sip her drink and muse over her acquired taste for the smoother brews courtesy of Optimus Prime and Jazz while Starscream absorbed what she had said.

He was in shock, nearly at a processor crash before he worked his way out of it.

She was sure the numbers weren't that large for him to crunch, but to realize that she was talking about paying him over _fifty-five billion credits_ in the first vorn for work he'd already completed was an entirely different matter. If she hadn't gone over it a dozen times already with several agencies on Lydrom and with Lyzen, it would be hard for her to grasp too.

"Why should I believe you?" he eventually asked.

"Because I already have the technology reverse-engineered and adapted," she answered evenly. "I don't _need_ the schematics, or your assistance in making it work. I began using it myself half a stellar cycle ago. The offer is being made out of honor, not need."

"Is that why it is so low?" he leveled his gaze at her, his optics narrowing.

"The up front is low," she granted. "Simply because I do not have the resources here on Earth to offer more. It is the highest price you will get this vorn and the royalties on are the high end for a mass-produced weapon, and we both know it."

"She has a point," Skyfire said quietly, trying not to take a side in this. As much as he wanted the deal to happen, he couldn't have it be anyone but Starscream's choice.

"Think it over for a couple solar cycles, Starscream, and talk to Perceptor and Skyfire about current credit value," Ezara suggested. "Ask me questions when we're out flying and both our heads are the most clear. I don't need an answer now."

He nodded slowly, his processors running at double speed to process all the possibilities. Her motives, what she was offering, how likely she was telling the truth.

Well, he was sure she had spoken true about the last part, that she'd already adapted it and was using it. It put things in a different perspective than if he was the only one with the knowledge. She was being nice to him, true, possibly because he had nothing, or that she'd taken his life as a Decepticon away without even asking him, but there was that honor thing. He'd known bots who valued it greatly, and he did get that feeling from her, as well as the blue and red mech next to her.

"Exclusive rights," he focused on her again. "Does that mean you intend to keep the technology from others?"

"Yes, though not from you," she answered smoothly. "You will retain the right to have and modify your creation for your personal use."

Starscream nodded thoughtfully, leaning against Skyfire unconsciously when the larger jet slipped an arm around him.

"You two are absolutely adorable," Ezara smiled, her voice a rumbling purr of complete approval.

"It's good to have you back," Skyfire smiled down and kissed the top of Starscream's helm.


	3. The Si'Mir's Arrival

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_:  
_Rating_:  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary:_

* * *

**Wanderer's Home arc 3 pt 03: The Si'Mir's Arrival**

* * *

"You look great," Jazz gave his best convincing manner everything he had as they waited outside the Ark entrance with the crew and various dignitaries from Earth and Cybertron. It was the fifth time in a breem she'd fidgeted and said something that needed the assurance.

Between Ezara's nerves at seeing her Si'Mir, her Aunu'e'tuk, her Da'rei, the Vi'Sushri and her very limited choices for a bonded, Prime's nerves about the shift in power now that it wouldn't be one very young, relatively eager to please Tezita but at least three seasoned political powerhouses, Prowl's stress over the same, Red Alert's absolute psychosis over having that many more Tezita around, one of them a certified Black Ops master, the various medics and engineers working non-stop o bring more former Decepticons out of the Forge-madness, helping both the crew and Starscream adjust to his new life, the arrival of pretty much every Autobot of rank in the past few days, organizing with the humans who would be in attendance and the general stress everyone was under in anticipation for hosting four military Tezita and three civilian ones, all of near-Prime rank, Jazz was as frazzled as anyone and dared not show it. If _he_ fell apart, he didn't really want to contemplate what would happen to the carefully choreographed chaos he was the silent conductor of today.

"You're perfect. My best work in vorn," Sunstreaker added, all but daring her to insult him by implying she wasn't.

Jazz gratefully let him manage Ezara's nerves while he walked over to where Skyfire was landing with the last of their human witnesses; Major and Captain Carter, there at Ezara's request as her guests, plus G.I. Joe's Brigadier General Hawk, Scarlett and Flint representing their unit as the one with the most ties to the Autobots.

"That should be everybody here," Skyfire said, transforming once his passengers had disembarked and quickly sought out his mate, who was understandably still uneasy alone.

"Welcome to the Ark, General Hawk," Jazz greeted him with his usual cavalier warmth.

"A pleasure to be here, Jazz," Brigadier General Hawk said respectfully, still slightly put on edge for the lack of any rank or honorific to use, even with the Autobot SIC and TIC. "Are there any updates to the protocol information we received?"

"Nope, it's all good to go," Jazz grinned and flicked a look at the fidgeting Tezita in her greeting finery. "It's really all her, and a bit for Prime. Just try to remember to run _away_ from any explosions and gunfire today."

"We'll do our best - though we brought along a few 'party favors' in case anybody decided to crash it," Flint grinned. "Skyfire's hanging onto 'em for now."

Jazz grinned back and motioned them to join the other humans; generals and diplomats from more than a dozen countries as well as a few scientists and businessmen. "Given who's comin' taday, ah think ah feel sorry for anybody crazy enough to show up uninvited. Ezara's as green as they come compared to her top officers."

"Now _that_ is a terrifying thought," General Hawk observed, following them and nodding greetings to those he recognized, the rest of the Joes moving to positions where they could help herd the assembled bystanders if anything _did_ go wrong.

"From what she's said, it's really a good thing," Jazz gave a small, approving nod to their dispersal as he kept closer to Hawk to continue the conversation and give commentary in general on what they would see. "They're far more disciplined than she is, and that means she's less likely to act rashly. Just like any soldier when a good sergeant's around."

"Except that most soldiers don't outrank their sergeant," Hawk pointed out.

"Most soldiers weren't effectively raised by their sergeant either," Jazz chuckled a bit.

"Do you know who is arriving today?" the West German ambassador asked politely in flawless English, even though he was addressing Jazz, who could understand German just as easily.

"Sure do," the Autobot answered with all his habitual cheer. "The Chief of Intelligence, their Master Engineer, Ezara's aide-de-camp, her combat instructor, and three civilians are who's expected."

"Do you know anything more about the three civilians?" The ambassador asked politely. "I assume they are VIP's from her world?"

Jazz nodded easily. "They're Ezara's suitors. She needs to choose a co-ruler before she'll be full accepted as the Toe'Emirc," he translated a bit, putting it in more human terms than most of his fellows. He knew it would be easiest for the humans to understand this way. "Tarinash Vicrom was born military but raised civilian. He works as something of a liaison between the two. Farim Kidae is a scientist and professor in dozens of fields as well as the ... dean, I believe ... of the most prominent higher education institute on Lydrom. Otalon Ra'Kimsh is a student of cross-cultural issues, particularly civilian-military ones. While the Toe'Emirc runs the military, her co-ruler, the E'on, takes care of civilian issues and keeps the military from overrunning civil rights."

"Not a terribly bad setup, if you have to stick with single-ruler," Hawk nodded slightly. It was especially reassuring given his experience with the high-strung, temperamental and aggressive young Toe'Emirc.

"It seems ta work for them," Jazz agreed as his attention was draw upwards. "Here they come."

The entire gathering soon went silent, reactions varying from stiff near-fear to eager unease to barely-contained excitement as they watched the relatively small craft, barely a tenth the size of the Ark and all swept angles, descend almost vertically to it's landing spot not far from the onlookers.

"Very impressive ship, especially for a spacecraft," Scarlett observed. "Does it go with a carrier of some sort?"

Sideswipe grinned down at her. "Nope, it's an inter-galactic ship on it's own. Several times larger than the ones Ezara and Caurun came in," he motioned to the two very differently dressed Tezita with his chin. "The big ships come later."

"There's only a half-dozen or so in this one," Bumblebee added quietly, his optics glued on the alien craft. If he didn't know better and had to guess, he'd peg it as a Decepticon craft. It did share a distant aesthetic in design and a definite one in color with the 'Cons. It gave him the creeps in a big way. "Mid-sized ships have a couple hundred on board, and the big ones hold five thousand. At least for a trip this long. They could probably carry more on a shorter trip."

"It's not nearly as alien as I expected," Wheeljack commented to Perceptor and Skyfire from somewhere behind them.

Starscream, who was as close to Skyfire as he could manage without looking like he wanted protection from those around him, shrugged. "Not when you accept the theory that there was some kind of contact between Cybertron and Lydrom, likely one-way, near the beginning of Tezita development."

"We do not know that," Perceptor objected, all his sensors and non-to-insignificant processor power he could spare focused on the ship as it settled on the dusty earth, its belly seeming to conform to the surface it settled on.

"Know it, no," Starscream granted. "But it fits all the evidence. There've been some mechs out wandering ever since the Quintessons lost control, so it makes sense."

"It could also just be parallel evolution of design," Skyfire offered as a compromise. "Let's face it - once you've got sealable adaptive shielding, angled designs on spacecraft simply make sense, especially if they're combat capable. It's a lot easier to adjust to changing conditions if all you have to do is shift plates around, rather than recontouring your entire surface."

Any reply that the other scientific mechs may have had was silenced when the side of the craft melted open, it's nanite skin parting to allow its passengers to depart. That single act did more to set it in the minds of everyone watching that this ship was not of any familiar origin than any amount of explanation.

The first to step out was a femme, dressed as ornately as Ezara but with a much more armored look drenched in red and green with stylized battle scenes under the near-transparent crystal armor. She was tall, only a few inches shorter than Ezara, and at least to the Autobots, had the feel of a very, very old lifelong warrior who'd seen enough front line service and retired to the Academy.

This was the pinnacle of the Tezita warrior.

"That'd be Emirc Corsa Da'rei, The Bloodsaber," Jazz spoke just loud enough for every human to hear clearly. "The most senior warrior on the ship and Ezara's combat instructor."

She paused a few paces from the ship, taking in the gathering with a critical eye before a subtle shift in her body language signaled her acceptance of the safety of the situation.

The next to appear was another tall femme, her paint a subtle, much more subdued swirling dance of may colors and a flowing dress much more like Ezara's than armor. She exuded authority even more than Corsa, but in a more quiet way.

"Emirc Lyzen Kikn'nah, the Si'Mir," Jazz said as her gaze locked on Ezara, focusing on the young warrior almost exclusively. "Their Chief of Intelligence. Probably the most powerful person on Lydrom outside of the Toe'Emirc."

"And probably the most dangerous one here," Scarlett mused.

"By far," Jazz agreed. "Vi'Sushri Olasia Ti'Keen, Lydrom's top Master Engineer," he identified the femme that appeared next. Despite the authority she wielded like a sharp weapon with just a look and movement of her shimmering, geometrically painted body, she was definitely not a warrior like the three Tezitan femmes she joined in the space between the shuttle and the gathered Autobots and humans.

"Why would an engineer be among the first to come?" General Hawk asked Jazz quietly.

"She's their brightest scientific mind," he answered easily. "She's here ta study us."

"Somehow, I think that's almost more frightening than their Head of Intelligence showing up," the General mused.

"Not for ya," Jazz assured him. "They aren't that interested in biological life. That wanna know how we're related, and how best to ta fight us."

"Are their leaders always female, and so much larger?" the ambassador from England asked, her interest in the gender bias clear as the first mech stepped out. A short, lightly built one with a muted, simple paintjob compared to the three femmes.

"Nah," Jazz shook his head. "Size is based on rank; the taller the Tezita, the higher the rank. All three positions are pretty much open ta both. The Si'Mir's been a femme more often th'n not, but not by much. The Toe'Emirc and E'on have been a mech as often as not. There's no link as far as ah know. That's Cota Tonen, Ezara's Aunu'e'tuk. Sort of an aide-de-camp. If you ever want to talk to her, you'll probably be going through him."

"A good person to get to know then," the ambassador nodded slightly. "A person of official rank, or do they just recognize how useful his position is?" She asked, noticing the simpler paintjob.

"It's an official position," Jazz said easily as Ezara stepped up to Lyzen. They grasped forearms and leaned forward to touch foreheads, their bodies melting into each other slightly where they touched. "Cota is a rank, a couple steps below Emirc. Equivalent to a US Army Captain, I believe."

"How did that happen?" The German ambassador asked as he saw Lyzen and Ezara's solid metal frames becoming more liquid and mingling where they touched.

"Their bodies are mostly nanites," Jazz said as he took in the mutual break in greeting protocol. He knew Ezara missed Lyzen desperately, but this was beyond what he'd thought it would go to in public, at least in such a formal situation. It was far more telling to him that the older femme seemed to be just as desperate for the contact. "It's not common to greet like that, but they were very close and have been separated a long time."

"Probably also communicating with each other, saying something they don't want to go into publicly," Scarlett offered. "We're aware that they're capable of _some_ sort of short-range broadcasting like that."

"Touch-based," Jazz supplied as the pair reluctantly broke apart and stabilized their forms. He doubted anyone else but the Tezita and Prime realized how badly they hadn't wanted to. "Short and long-range internal comm handle anything greater."

Ezara greeted Corsa next, a warrior's welcome as they clasped arms as well and exchanged a few quiet words. Olasia was next and accepted the open palm that Ezara offered in a brief greeting. She offered a nod to Tonen before turning to walk towards the Autobots while Prime came forward for the introductions.

"Does the higher-ranking individual always make the offer to touch?" a Japanese VIP asked.

"Yes," Jazz nodded. "Tezita are very cautious about physical contact. Those of a higher ranking may touch those of lower rank at will, but those of lower rank must wait for an invitation to touch."

"Like an introduction," the English ambassador observed. "With the communication possibilities, it makes sense."

"Exactly," Jazz agreed. "It is highly unlikely you will ever touch the Si'Mir or any of her agents, the Ky'Wren. They are extremely protective of their personal space for just that reason. Toe'Emirc Onyan'a might, because she likes to touch, though you will always want to allow her to initiate contact. You are of comparable rank to most Emircs, including Da'rei, and Vi'Sushri like Ti'Keen. You outrank a Cota, such as Tonen, and the civilians. The only civilian that outranks a diplomat is the E'on."

The watchers fell silent again as Optimus Prime stepped forward when Ezara motioned him to. Despite his long experience, his status as a warrior and leader of armies, the knowledge he'd gained from Ezara made him far too aware of the impact of this meeting.

"Welcome to Earth Si'Mir Kikn'nah," he focused on keeping his voice level and warm as he greeted those who had more influence on Lydrom and Tezita politics than Ezara would ever have. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

Without apparent hesitation, he offered both his forearms to Lyzen, privately praying to Primus that she would accept his greeting as a warrior-equal after Ezara briefed her with their first touch.

"Thank you Optimus Prime," Lyzen gave him a faint smile and stepped forward to close the distance between them before laying her forearms on his and closing slender fingers around his arms just in front of the elbow joint. He felt her brush against his mind, felt the power and will that had put a much more savage, ill-socialized Ezara in her place so many times, and the politeness of the contact before Lyzen drew back and broke the contact. "Lydrom is in your debt for the care of our Toe'Emirc while she was injured."

"It was our pleasure," Optimus said sincerely. "My Commanders," he said, indicating them in turn. "Ultra Magnus, Chief Commander of Cybertronian operations; Prowl, Chief Tactician and Second in Command; Jazz, Head of Intelligence and my Third in Command and Noitefel, Captain of the Guard."

Lyzen smiled and inclined her head to each after meeting their optics.

He had no doubt she was judging each of them, gauging their value as both ally and threat. It was just place after all, her purpose.

"My crew," she focused back on Prime and indicated each as she introduced them. "Emirc Corsa Da'rei; the Toe'Emirc's combat instructor and the oldest warrior among the Tezita. Vi'Sushri Olasia Ti'Keen; the finest engineer and Singer that Lydrom has produced in generations. Cota Tonen Aunu'e'tuk

Optimus took a moment as he met each of their gazes to process what the language pack was telling him.

Emirc; the rank below Toe'Emirc. A powerful individual regardless of their specialization, though most were not in the inner circle of world politics.

Da'rei; Bloodsaber. A title and position, much like his as Prime. The most feared warrior of Lydrom, but also one of the most even-tempered.

Cota; another rank, two steps below Emirc. A very low-ranking officer, but as Aunu'e'tuk, the Toe'Emirc's Keeper of Dates, one with tremendous political power in the actual running of things. The Aunu'e'tuk knew nearly everything that happened of importance and could easily make or break nearly any politics by smoothing access to those of rank or denying it.

Vi'Sushri; a Master Engineer. Both a title and a rank comparable to an influential Emirc. A specialist within the military, much like Ratchet or Wheeljack to him. She could fight, but it wasn't why they supported her. She existed to design and build things.

He half-wished he'd thought to introduce any of his own at her level, but he knew that none of the scientists or medics with him were quite right to bring into a gathering like this one. Still, once the formalities were over, the knot of scientific minds was in the background, just waiting for a chance to pounce on a like-minded Tezita.

"It is good to finally meet all of you," he said politely, inclining his head to them in turn. Even knowing who and what was coming, he couldn't help but wonder at the logic of bringing so many non-frontliners into an active war zone. Of the seven on this ship, only one was a warrior, and she was long since retired.

Then again, it was a war zone in which even a non-combative Tezita could hold their own against most enemies.

"Then," Ezara drew attention to them both by touching his shoulder with a familiarity that was sure catch the Tezita's attention. "We can set our officers free to mingle, and I will finally get to meet my choices."

"An excellent idea," Prime nodded. "Good luck - I look forward to meeting them later."

"Thank you," Ezara smiled at him and moved towards the ship with Lyzen where three mechs stood. While dressed, it was in a markedly different style than the flowing, translucent gowns of the military. All three wore more close-fitting outfits, not dissimilar to a human suit in muted earthen browns. Only one of them sported the bright body paint underneath, and he was by far the one with the most military bearing.

"He's very different from the other two," Mirage spoke quietly to Jazz as they watched the introductions from a safe distance.

"It's _much_ more formal too," Jazz added, watching the stiff body language all around and Ezara's almost over the top dominant posturing. "She's doing her best to scare them too. That one's Otalon Ra'Kimsh. He came up from the arenas, like Ezara, but while she went military, he eventually went to civilian higher education."

"The middle one looks nervous," Mirage commented, looking for confirmation of his interpretation of the body language.

"Too much so," Jazz kept his smile to himself. "Tarinash Vicrom. I understand he was born military but raised by civilians when he lacked the spark to fight. She's already rejected him. Otalon is intimidated, but holding his own, just barely. He probably understands her posturing and just how much a threat she represents more than the others. He might even have fought her before, though she doesn't remember him if he did."

"Would that end his chances?" Mirage asked curiously. "And do you know anything about the three of them beyond what's public info?" He asked, making his hand available for a quick data transfer.

Jazz brushed his fingers against those of his agent, offering what precious little more he knew of the three. It mostly consisted of Ezara's logic in choosing these three from among the score or so of original candidates presented as profiles nearly half a metacycle before and her thoughts on Lyzen's logic in presenting those mechs from the ten billion or so potential candidates.

"Only if he doesn't overcome it soon," Jazz shook his head. "The E'on has to be able to stand up to the Toe'Emirc and stop them if need be. He can't be fully intimidated by her or he can't serve his purpose. That's all she cares about now. Why he's afraid doesn't matter unless all three are."

"I meant the one who might have fought her before," Mirage chuckled. "You know the ranking system better than I do - once they're done talking to her, anybody I should consider for diplomatic contact? I know the Civilians and the Military work differently."

"Very differently," Jazz agreed. "The one she's sizing up now, Farim Kidae is likely the best to focus on. He's already a major player in civilian education and very old by their standards at almost four ganon. My impression is that both make him very important in both the civilian and military realm. Tarinash Vicrom is also a good prospect, for intel if nothing else. He knows the divide between the two better than anyone on this planet, and quite possibly on Lydrom. The most important friendship to cultivate will be the one with her E'on."

"I guess we're lucky that there are only three," Mirage considered the situation thoughtfully as he planned out his mission. "Easily enough to remain friendly with all of them until we know who to focus on."

"Agreed," Jazz nodded, watching Ezara's body language more than anything. He was sure she didn't have an immediate resonance with any of them, but she didn't dislike the two remaining either.

Not far away Vi'Sushri Olasia Ti'Keen was striding purposefully towards the scientific gathering. Even if she hadn't received the briefing Ezara sent on the who's who of the Ark and Cybertron she knew a gathering of minds when she saw it.

A flier, sleek and proud. The giant he stayed close to. A mated pair, if not bonded, from their matching paint and posture. A red mech with a telescope mounted on his shoulder. A brightly painted white and green mech with a facemask and flashing fins on each side of his head.

All optics were on her as she swept through the gathering with a minimum of pleasantries.

The one of them with the fins was the first to turn towards her.

"Name's Wheeljack," he said politely. "We were talking over how our various projects were doing lately."

"I am Vi'Sushri Olasia Ti'Keen," she came to a stop and gave him a small, polite bow. "Olasia unless formality is called for," she added with a smile. "What projects are underway?" she asked with honest interest.

"The big one is the reprogramming project, though we've got most of the kinks worked out - Starscream here is our most successful patient," Wheeljack said, indicating the shorter, sleeker Seeker. "Skyfire's still helping him adjust to it, but they're both getting along quite well. Starscream and Perceptor have been working on perfecting the solar-satellite system since then. Those are the big ones, at any rate."

"I heard something about it, though the solar satellite and other energy projects are primarily why they brought me out here first," Olasia said, sizing up Starscream and the giant he seemed perpetually attached to. "I don't hit," she told him gently, startling almost everyone.

"Wha?" Starscream straightened his back strut and snapped his wings fully forward and up in an unconscious display of fitness. It wasn't a huge shift in posture, but it was noticeable.

"You were hunched up," she smiled and spoke softly, her tone much like one they'd take with a skittish grad student. "Try not to judge the non-warriors by her example."

"It's not her example so much," Starscream said, clearly a bit embarrassed. "I haven't been up very long, and the person I was before wasn't very popular around here."

Olasia nodded and turned her attention back to Wheeljack. "Unless it's being too rude, I would like to see the reprogramming and solar satellite projects."

"Not at all - which would you prefer to start with?" He asked her easily. "We'd be glad for any ideas you have on them, too," he offered.

"Reprogramming," she chuckled lightly. "I don't expect I've leave the satellite project for a while. She wants it in place a metacycle ago."

"She _does_ realize that it's probably going to be blown up once it's in place around Cybertron right now, doesn't she?" Wheeljack chuckled, shaking his head. "Not that I can blame her."

Olasia gave him a curious look, her optics refocusing slightly as they walked into the Ark. "I think that may be why she wants me on the project. We build shielding into our satellites to protect them from damage. The grade of shielding this one would need will reduce its power output while the war is on, but not in the long run."

"Up to a concerted Decepticon attack?" Wheeljack pointed out. "It wouldn't be a nuisance that could be taken down at leisure, not once Shockwave realized what it was and who had put it there. It would be a major target for him, probably for capture and reproduction, for destruction if that wasn't possible. And he's got a lot of firepower at his disposal, even without counting the Seekers at his beck and call. Not that I think it's a bad idea, I just want you to know what it'll be up against."

"Mmm," she paused, reviewing the fragmentary information she had on the subject, her expression a mixture of determination and excitement at a new and important problem. "Do you have accurate information on what it could be hit with? Not just the actual power rating, but frequencies and energy types as well? I can build a system that can project it. I've sent probes into stars before and got them out on the other side. It's more a matter of knowing what it will face than a matter of difficulty. You've likely seen the kind of energy our bodies can absorb and redirect?" she glanced at him for confirmation.

"You've got a point there," he granted. "Especially your military types ... something that just they do?" He asked her, pretty sure he knew the answer already from talking to Mitrix and Singer, but wanting confirmation.

"Yes and no," she gave him a wickedly playful grin. "Yes, when it's a matter of getting enough energy to survive. That's been put into the default programming of all military types. We don't even need to be on line to do it. Nearly yes when it's absorbing excess energy around us, such as energon or heat. While I've never met anyone who didn't, Lyzen swears it is a learned skill, just a very easily mastered one that's taught as quickly as possible. No, when it's what you saw her do in battle. That's a learned skill; how effective it is is as much a matter of how skilled the warrior as the strength and size of their nanite mass."

"Fair enough," Wheeljack chuckled lightly. "I was wondering more if you knew of any way to do it without needing the nanite conversion."

"Yes, though it's not conducive to sentience," Olasia said. "I'll be using that tech for the satellite. It is quite effective, but the cost to anything with a pain sensory net..." she shuddered in sympathy. "A major reason behind the drive to develop and propagate the use of the nanite form was the energy absorption technology. Mitrix developed both when she was Toe'Emirc Alpha's chief scientist. What some of those first volunteers suffered before the mercy of oblivion ... it was enough to stop the project until she could develop a system that didn't drive one insane from the agony. What she developed were the nanites."

"Right, I'll keep that in mind," he shuddered as they reached the labs. "Say - I don't suppose you know anything more about programming personalities than Singer or Mitrix would, do you?"

"It would depend on the specifics," she looked at him curiously. "Mitrix physically reformatted and reprogrammed our entire species in half a generation, and that's going by the official, declassified reports. It's a given what she did goes far beyond what I have the authority to know. Her specialty is core programming modification. Altering the very fundamentals of how an individual processes data and choices.

"Singer is focused on repairing damage to the secondary programming layers. The areas that are typically affected by trauma and degradation. She is a healer, first and last.

"My focus is on building from the ground up, machines more than people, though as a Vi'Sushri, a Master Engineer, I am fluent in all aspects of programming and repair."

"It's a side project that I'm working on," Wheeljack said easily. "Maybe if you stick around beyond the satellite system we can look at it all, but for now I think we've got plenty for you," he grinned, opening the door to the reformatting lab and giving her a moment to take in the two Seekers in various stages of physical disassembly or reassembly on the work tables. On the far side was a door that lead to the ever-expanding cavern where everyone they weren't ready to work on yet was in cold storage.

"Yes, the Forge Reclamation Project," she nodded in recognition. "I did hear about that, and I'm sure I'll be lending a hand as soon as Lyzen decides that the satellite project can do without me. Even I caught enough to know that will be a top priority in short order. To have flight again," she murmured, then shook her head. "It will be amazing to have natural fliers once more, and maybe this time they won't be too unstable."

"Was it something inherent to the fliers?" Wheeljack asked her curiously. "Or just a coincidence that the two came to blend?"

"I don't know," she flicked her chin left. "They were long gone before I was born. The understanding I have is that programming instability was inherent to the line. The same parts of the processors that made them natural fliers also quickly degraded the logic processors. The working theory was that the overclocking required to perform combat maneuvers would either shut down or fry other parts to preserve the survival-needed processes."

"You're less sure about that," Wheeljack observed, hoping he was gauging her right.

Olasia gave a quick look around, suddenly uneasy. "I have passed-down memories from _his_ ... Stormfire's ... time," she said quietly as she moved to examine the Seekers being worked on. "It was never contested that natural fliers were high-strung and prone to issues, not even by them. But _he_ was something else entirely. When Paulla became Toe'Emirc there was so much fear, much of it well-founded. Maybe she capitalized on it, maybe she just responded to it. Either way she ordered and spearheaded the destruction of every natural flier and their lineages."

"Overreaction to an old threat - purging the old regime," Wheeljack nodded slightly. "Something that Prime is still fighting to figure out a way not to do."

"He has a much more difficult effort, I expect," she murmured, her mind not really on what she was looking at, for all she did record everything she saw. "I understand revolutions are not common on Cybertron. At least not ones where both sides settle down and cohabitate peacefully when it's settled."

"More that revolutions aren't common at all," Wheeljack said, trying to conceal how disturbed he was that an entire frametype class had been destroyed for the actions of a few, or possibly just one. "The one example we have to base anything off of wasn't a civil war so much as a rebellion against a truly alien invader. The Quintessons are a different issue from the Decepticons, for all Megatron was willing to work with them for a stretch."

"They're likely the first target after the Cons then," Olasia said absently, his hands moving over Skywarp's frame with a focused fascination. "Is it true that Ezara made a new spark with this one?"

"Tried to, at least," Wheeljack nodded. "We still don't know how stable it'll be, health-wise. We don't know with either of the two sparks she created," he admitted. "I do have a question for you, about the fliers and the breeding program. Do you think it'd be a good idea to introduce a flier with a much more stable personality than any of the Decepticon seekers?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "As long as they're natural combat fliers and don't have larger issues, I can't imagine that Lyzen wouldn't love the choice, and I'm sure more than a few of us would be quite willing to take the risk on our own. Who?"

"Skyfire, Blades, Highbrow, Brainstorm, and the Aerialbots, particularly Skydive and Silverbolt, are all good fliers and have very stable minds. Powerglide, Treadbolt, Fireflight, Cloudraker... most other Autobot fliers would all probably be more stable than the 'Cons. You might be particularly interested in Broadside - he's a triple-changer, and makes Ultra Magnus look like a dwarf, though he's got a few other issues. No telling if a Spark he helped form would have the same trouble. Of course, you'd have to have somebody talk to them and get them to agree to it, but I wouldn't be surprised if they'd be willing."

Wheeljack paused that the sound she made, not quite sure how to categorize it.

"I will suggest it to Lyzen," she promised before her gaze flicked towards Skyfire when he walked in with Starscream and Perceptor. She stepped away from Skywarp's body and passed close to Wheeljack before speaking quietly. "Perhaps I can see the satellite, before I run out of reasons not to court Skyfire."

::Talk to Starscream _before_ you try it,:: Wheeljack told her seriously at the same time he let her know that approaching the pair wasn't strictly taboo. "Right, let's go take a look at the satellites - Star, you want to come along and help explain some of the specifics, or stay here while the others get back to work, keep an eye on Skywarp?"

::I will. Now is a bad time to make young. It just doesn't dull the reaction much,:: she told him with a shy smile, one that nearly looked like flirting to him.

For a moment the Seeker was torn, but a gentle shove by Skyfire sent him off with them.

"I'll join you," he covered for the fact it wasn't his decision. "Lyzen will take 'no' from non-Decepticons, right?" he asked as he fell into step with them.

"She'd better," Olasia snorted. "Despite what Ezara may think and Lyzen likes to present, ordered breedings are rare for those not in specialized projects."

"Such as?" Starscream relaxed a bit.

"Telepathy, flight, amphibious, several to develop new kinds of Beasts," she tipped her head in a shrug. "They're all meant to improve the species. The point is that even though she has the authority to order any given Tezita to breed and who with, it's not really done much. Besides, no matter how appealing you or your mate might be to her, there is no way she has the authority to order to you be with anyone else."

"Why would you have a telepathy program?" Wheeljack asked her curiously. "I understand why the humans are interested, but we can already communicate through radio."

"It's _far_ more useful than that," Starscream spoke up before Olasia could.

"Very true," she inclined her head to him, her optics lingering slightly longer than they should. "Telepathy is more about getting information from an unwilling subject, or gathering and passing on things that do not translate well to language when you can't be close enough to touch. Also useful for reaching those who are either too young for language or too incoherent for it. Theoretically, a strong telepath can also implant commands into another's processors or even take over their body at range."

"You know, like Soundwave," Starscream added.

"Fair enough, though I'd been hoping to avoid encouraging anybody to use _his_ spark," Wheeljack admitted. "I really don't recommend it - he's a sick mech, and was even before the war."

"I can only recommend you find a way to off-line him before Lyzen works out how useful he'd be," she said quietly as they paused for Starscream to open the locked door to another workshop. "Otherwise I'm sure she will. 'Sick' doesn't seem to worry her very often."

"Even 'sick' that makes Intel pause?" Wheeljack grumbled. "It's not that he's willing to kill that makes me say that about him - it's the sadism. He actually cut up two of his own minibots and stuck 'em back together to see if he could make a new mech out of them. Knowing him, probably did it while they were fully operational too." He shook his head, his fins flashing a dark pattern of colors. "Forget it. He's just the worst mix of scientist gone horribly wrong and intel operative I've ever run into. Let's focus on the satellites for now."

"I'm going to wish you luck in off-lining him quickly," Olasia shuddered. "He may be too far gone for Lyzen, but learned long ago not to count on her for it. She's much more partial to finding a use for a given sickness than removing the individual."

"I'm not sure that sounds much better," Starscream admitted. "I know there are some that can't be helped, but most are just that, sick."

"I mean those that the Singers, our best healers, can't help," she reached out to put a hand on his shoulder and tried to give a comforting smile. "From what I understand of your case, even as far gone as you were, your mind was repaired. As drastic a remedy as I've ever encountered short of a full reformat, but you were not a lost cause."

"From what Thundercracker has said of me, Soundwave probably isn't then either," he said uncertainly, not quite sure what to make of the touch that didn't bring any attempt to access his mind.

"It's a different type of problem, between you two," Wheeljack said seriously. "You weren't as far gone, without the problems you had. At any rate, let's get to the satellites... how are they doing?" He asked Starscream.

"We've got the controls for redirecting the energy - that wasn't very difficult. Defensive systems and maximizing the efficiency are the hard ones - we want them to be able to power themselves, but without losing all the energy they can transmit," the Seeker dropped into project explanation mode quickly and extended his hand. "Here, download the schematics and projections," he offered.

Olasia brushed her hand against his, downloaded what was offered and processed it for nearly a breem as she took it apart, examined every system and ran comparative analysis after comparative analysis until she was satisfied she understood enough to continue the conversation.

"Would you mind if I bounced an idea for the system off of you?" Starscream asked her once she was coming out of the analysis. "I was considering some alternative uses for the system. Of course, if it's something that the Tezita have already tried and found impractical, then it's not necessarily worth pursuing."

Wheeljack looked over at him, his expression largely unreadable, though somebody who knew him well could tell by the flashes on his fins that he was somewhere between curious and concerned to hear Starscream talking about 'alternatives' with such a simple system.

"Bounce away," she grinned at him eagerly before reaching down to brush her hand across the satellite, leaving a small portion of her nanites to explore it. "It has definite alternate uses with minimal modification. What did you have in mind?"

"There's a concept that's called a 'Dyson's Sphere' here on Earth," Starscream explained. "Basically, build an artificial world around a star, to fully capture its energy rather than letting the vast majority of it escape into space to gradually be wasted. Well, with enough of these satellites, a similar setup could be established. Build a network of them around a star, redirecting the energy from each satellite to a single broadcast point.

"At that point, you could use the energy for just about anything - powering a world with the entire power of a star, without having to worry about generating artificial gravity on the outside, creating a massive energy beam that could be used as a defensive weapon... with the sort of energy we're talking about, it might even be capable of generating a massive, fleet-sized space bridge between two points. I've run the numbers, and there's really no limits to what could be done with an entire star's power beyond willingness to actually use it."

"You'd also be putting the star's power to single-use," Wheeljack protested. "If you used it for anything other than powering a world, you'd be cutting off the power supply entirely."

"That's what energon stores are for," Starscream shrugged. "Unless Cybertron grows completely beyond capacity, it'd only take a vorn or two to generate ganon worth of supplies. And if you didn't want to do that, there's always cutting down on how much you redirect for other purposes - just because you _could_ put it to a single broadcast point at a time doesn't mean you'd have to."

"Particularly with this setup," Olasia all but purred. "You are talking about an immensely complicated system, far beyond anything I've even attempted to calculate. The issue is more one of permission than technology though. It _can_ be done, but doing so will have significant impact on the entire solar system. Not only darkening all skies, something that shouldn't be tried in any inhabited system, but also removing the solar winds and if we use the full absorption spectrum, even its gravitational pull. It would be utterly devastating to anything orbiting that star.

"Now if we find a star without anything orbiting it that matters, it could be extremely effective," she was nearly talking to herself, and uplink to Telentraan-1 feeding her data as fast as she could handle it. Her processors were going at full capacity as millions of options were analyzed and discarded or marked for further study. "Such stars do not seem very common, but there are enough of them that it could be worth further investigation.

"An immense undertaking, but the possibilities ... you can count on Lyzen and Ezara sticking their noses in quickly, but it's definitely worth exploring," she gave Starscream a dazzling look of approval. "I like how your mind works."

"Thank you," Starscream chuckled. "We'll have to get it working first, of course," he added, bringing up the specs. "Care to get started?"

"Absolutely," she agreed eagerly.

* * *

Outside the Ark, Ironhide had zeroed in on the Tezita that he felt the most kinship with, an old warrior that commanded the field with nothing more than her posture.

"Ironhide, Autobot Security Director and combat instructor," he introduced himself as he walked up. "You're Corsa Da'rei?" He asked her, drawing the name from the data file they'd all gotten.

"Yes," she inclined her head politely as she took him in with a single look and seemed to approve. "It is good to finally meet you," she offered her forearm, palm up, in the traditional warrior greeting of Cybertron.

He took her hand, grasping her forearm in welcome and felt her brush against his mind without going past the outer layer meant for such contact in the more intimate greeting Tezita allies offered each other.

"You too," he grinned. "Always good to meet somebody who's actually learned something from the field. Too many bot's never really seem to get out of it."

She laughed easily with a grin, though her optics left him no doubt that she was _old_ and well beyond stir crazy from the trip. "Someone has to teach the younglings before they get cut up and drained. I hope to leave with a few new skills. I understand you still prefer energy and projectile weapons."

"Since we haven't figured out a way to do the energy absorption you guys are so good at, it makes sense," he nodded. "That and fists," he added with a grin. "Want to come see our target range and sparring rooms?"

Corsa gave a glance at Ezara sizing up her suitors and the way Lyzen all but hovered nearby. "That sounds great, especially the sparring," she turned back to Ironhide with a grateful look. "It'll be light again before I get her away from the Si'Mir."

"At least," he chuckled. "But then, I'm not surprised. She is a good fighter already - you shouldn't have too much trouble, beyond teaching her some restraint," he said as they started into the Ark.

"If teaching her to survive was my job, I'd have called it good a long time ago," she chuckled, taking in the orange walls and placing experience with the schematics she had. "She came to me an extremely skilled and deadly fighter. What I have to teach her are the refined techniques expected of her rank. The formal sparring rules and moves. She doesn't take to that nearly as well as she does ripping people apart."

"So the challenge is going to be a formal deal, instead of no-holds barred?" Ironhide snorted, shaking his head. "Figures. Decide who gets to lead based on who follows rules, instead of on who's _actually_ the best fighter. So, which is your style?"

"No, no," she shook her head sharply. "The formal displays are just to prove she has enough education to lead in peacetime. You don't want to put an uneducated civilian in charge of the military, even when you don't have a war raging. She has proven she can already, in a real war, but it's still something she needs to understand. The disciplines I teach are the foundation of every fighting style we have except for the Beasts, who are born knowing how best to use their bodies to kill.

"The contest, while there are a few rules and traditions, is no-holds bared to the death," she added more quietly. "But to get to the challenge, she has to demonstrate to those who don't know her skill that she has the discipline needed to lead the armies and not just fight."

"So they measure her ability to lead in peacetime with her ability to fence?" He asked her, a little perplexed by it. "Or is it just one of the ways she can show she's more than a murder machine?"

Corsa paused, thinking about how to explain for a moment as they made their way into the heart of the Ark.

"The formal displays are a measure of her discipline and perseverance. It takes a great deal to learn the full sequences. It is also a mark of her education as an officer. Each will name who trained them, and it is on us, the Da'rei, to put our reputation and honor with their performance, both during the display and afterwards as an officer or Toe'Emirc. No one is taught more steps of the sequence than they have earned the right to in their education. To complete the full performance means that her Da'rei has staked their reputation on her skill in other areas as well.

"She must master herself and what she must know to rule before I will allow her to perform in public."

"You've got your work cut out for you," Ironhide chuckled slightly. "She's been working on it on her own, with some of the other femmes helping, but the degree of perfection she's going for is tricky for her. I'd say it's a burr in a joint somewhere, but with what she's made of that's not really possible."

"She is something of a perfectionist by nature when she sets out to master something," Corsa said with no small amount of fondness in her voice as she paused to let him open the practice room door. "It is to her credit that she has come as far as she has so quickly. No matter how I growl and curse her in practice, she's been one of my best students in such a long time. She's so young to have mastered as much as she has.

"Have you seen evidence that the other Toe'Emirc are with her?"

"Oh yeah," Ironhide said, shaking his head. "That, or she's got more than a few screws loose in the processor, one of the two. I saw it happen with some mechs who were supposed to have an attached team, like Blaster and Soundwave, who didn't come through right, but they're too fully formed to be a case like that one. She's not exactly hiding them, for what it's worth."

"If they're with her, it's a _good_ thing," she chuckled and followed him into the room, taking stock of the various pieces of equipment and sparring rings in the large, open room. "Because they didn't choose Ryzia or anyone else we know of. Lyzen will know soon enough, if she doesn't already."

"So... what? They'd just take off if they wanted to?" He asked curiously, checking which ranges were clear. "Sparring, or target practice?" He asked her easily.

"Sparring, please," she reached up in a stretch before altering her form to a much more squared, Cybertronian like design. "I've had to be still since we left Lydrom. I _need_ a workout. And no, they can't 'just take off' but when the last Toe'Emirc died, they moved to the strongest of the candidates. Ezara should have been it, but there was no way of knowing."

"Well, she definitely is," Ironhide said easily as he got ready himself. "And don't worry about holding back, just don't do anything that's going past sparring," he grinned. "I can take it."

He was sure he saw gratitude in the optics of the nearly Prime-sized femme as she dropped into a neutrally balanced posture and they began the familiar dance of gauging a new opponent.

* * *

Mirage ran through his bios on the three suitors who'd come to court Ezara, and considered the reactions to them. It wasn't hard to figure out who had the best odds, and who had the worst - at any rate, it was obvious that Tarinash wasn't going to get very far. His reaction to her had been entirely too clear.

But, from his profile, he was at least a good start for somebody to talk to. If nothing else, between being military and being raised by a wealthy family, it meant he actually posed a chance of being a decent conversational partner.

"Tarinash Vicrom? Mirage," he said, approaching the bot from slightly to the front to avoid spooking him, in case the timidity hadn't just been a response to Ezara.

"Greetings Mirage," the Tezita shifted to face him and offered his hand, palm up, with a slightly more than polite smile.

"A pleasure to meet you," Mirage smiled back, taking his hand. "A special pleasure to meet another of good breeding and upbringing," he added warmly as their touch parted. He had no doubt the expression that crossed Tarinash's face was of acute embarrassment, even if it was respectably well controlled.

"Most would argue about the breeding," he offered in explanation. "Military bred that can't learn to fight is not a good thing. My education has been second to none."

"The military needs more than just warriors though," Mirage said easily. "Would you like to get somewhere a little further away from the boisterous types?" He asked, nodding towards the Twins and other sparked warriors. "Not too far, but somewhere with something good to drink."

"That does sound nice," Tarinash inclined his head and smoothly walked with Mirage towards the Ark. "The Toe'Emirc indicated you are a noble?"

"Yes, for all that it matters these days," Mirage nodded slightly. "It's one of the reasons I'm glad to meet somebody else who is," he admitted. They're good fighters, but refinement is largely lost on most of them."

"They sound like the Beast-sparks," Tarinash commented absently. "The military would be much weaker without them, but you've been around Ezara. She's extraordinarily well adjusted and educated for one. Though now that the war is nearly over, surely your heritage will matter again soon?"

"I wouldn't go that far, it's just that they're not nobility," Mirage chuckled. "And eventually. There's a chance of it, at least. With a Prime who came up from much more humble beginnings and most of the Tower lines practically extinct, it's hard to tell if things will get back to normal or turn into one of those systems that tries to ignore class. Either way, I'm looking forward to it finally being over. It'll be good to go back home, and stay there."

"A home that is once more flowing with energon and lighting up space as the jewel it should be," Tarinash said without a touch of doubt that it would happen, and very soon. "Warriors seem to enjoy the rebuilding phase nearly as much as the Engineers. Cybertron should be a stunning world full of life within a vorn, if that long. There is already so much excitement over this project in both communities."

"We've been at war longer than any Tezita we know about has lived," Mirage chuckled slightly. "We're _definitely_ looking forward to that being over. It'll be good to have the turbo-foxes back as well. Haven't had a good hunt since just after the war started."

The Tezita considered him for a moment as they walked threw the Ark's corridors. "Surely there is good hunting here. Earth is overloaded with creatures."

"Not nearly as interesting as the ones on Cybertron could be," Mirage chuckled. "There are some though... are you a hunter?"

"In the same sense I believe you are," he inclined his head as they reached the firing range and Mirage selected two light blaster riffles. "My preferred targets have been small fliers and mid-sized swimmers."

"I've usually gone for small runners, but the fliers are enjoyable too... care for a little simulation?" he asked him with a bit of a grin.

"That sounds delightful," Tarinash returned the look and accepted the light riffle he was offered. He took a moment to ping Teletraan-1 for how to use the device, then flicked his chin up in understanding. "Perhaps one orn you can visit for a grand hunt on Lydrom."

"Could be enjoyable," Mirage grinned. "A little target practice first, then see if you can keep up while I show you the advantage of a turbo-fox over the animals here?"

"Target practice would be good. I've never handled an energy riffle before," he warned his companion. "Lydrom hasn't used them since Toe'Emirc Mitrix's time."

"I wasn't sure if civilians used them more often," Mirage nodded slightly. "It's fairly typical to arm the non-combatants with weapons that the military doesn't have to worry about much. What sort of weapons are you used to?"

"Small ballistics for fliers and a..." he paused, trying to find a way to explain in a language that had no comparable word. "A crossbow," he defaulted to English. "It is a short range ballistic weapon, but it does not use pellets. The long projectiles stick out of the target and are connected to the weapon. Those are for aquatic hunts."

"Spear gun," Mirage offered, holding his hand out. "I've got a data packet with common hunting weapons, so you've got local equivalents you could use. Your main problem is going to be learning not to lead your targets as much on Earth - I don't know how fast they are on Lydrom, but most of our game animals can move at lightning speed, so switching from that to things that crawl the way the local animals do takes some retraining."

Tarinash rested his palm on Mirage's without hesitation and the exchange of hunting weapons and game went both ways and covered three worlds.

"Yes they _are_ slow creatures, and very small," the Tezita said thoughtfully. "What they lack in speed they make up for in difficulty to hit?"

"Pretty much," Mirage nodded slightly. "They also get under cover faster - when the ground is covered with dirt instead of metal, burrowing works better. I still don't hunt nearly as much as I used to, just for sporting purposes. I have to make sure nobody can see when I'm doing it around this bunch, and it's unsatisfying when you have to hunt alone _and_ don't get trophies for your efforts."

"Definitely," Tarinash's sympathy was genuine and clearly visible on the fine features of his nanite face. "At the very least we can have some resemblance of a proper hunt now. Otalon enjoys hunting as well. I'm sure he'd like to join us, even if his preference is big game."

"Which we really don't have on this world, short of their elephants and rhinoceri," Mirage chuckled. "Or whales, I suppose, but aquatic never was my strong suit. Entirely too slow a process; can't understand what Hot Rod ever saw in it. So, why don't we start out with a little target practice? Get you started before Otalon, since he probably won't take long to get used to it, being an active fighter."

Tarinash nodded and walked forward to the firing line. He slipped a few nanites into the weapon to get a better feel for it while Mirage activated the practice program. It was different than his usual weapons. Targeting was the same, but the difference in leading ... that would take some getting used to. Never mind slower targets, the difference between ballistics and energy was tantamount to learning a completely different concept in targeting.

"Ready," the Tezita said as he raised the light rifle to his shoulder and opened his senses wide.

"Now, the first thing to remember is that you don't have to brace yourself so much, or worry about leading a target any appreciable amount," Mirage told him, stepping up close behind him, though not actually touching him. "I'll watch you for your first few shots, before I join you - go ahead and take a few, you can't damage anything in here," he reassured him as distant targets started flying through. "Treat your weapon as hitting the same moment you pull the trigger, because it basically will."

It didn't surprise either of them that the first four shots missed despite the advice. Almost no one picked up a weapon and knew how to aim with any accuracy; going from well educated in ballistic to energy was even worse. Mirage was pleased to note that each shot was closer to the target, but it didn't surprise him though.

By the fifth shot Tarinash hit what he was trying to, though only barely. Within ten he was displaying the confidence of a seasoned hunter.

"Perhaps a bit more of a challenge?" the Tezita looked at Mirage with a self-satisfied smile and relaxed manner.

"Certainly," Mirage nodded, increasing the difficulty and stepping aside to raise his own weapon. "Goal this time is to hit as many of the targets as possible, but we're both going for the same targets," he said as moving target points started to appear along the wall. "You take the first shot, we alternate from there."

Tarinash flicked his chin up slightly and focused downrange. He'd picked the first target off within meters of its appearance.

Mirage hit the next one, ready for the steady ramping up in difficulty and evasiveness that would follow, curious just how long they'd keep the cycle going before starting it over again.

Five targets hit later and the noble was suitably impressed with the Tezita's leaning curve, but could see that it was nearing its limit for the first orn.

::Mirage, be ready for trouble,:: Jazz told him over an internal comm, his voice tense. ::Protect Tarinash.::

::How ready?:: Mirage asked, not letting on that there was something going on outside as he took another perfect shot. ::Saferoom ready, or armed and watching the doors?::

::Watch the door, don't let your guard down,:: Jazz responded. ::It's just Thundercracker. He doesn't look like he's here for trouble.::

::Acknowledged,:: Mirage transmitted, returning his attention to the game and watching Tarinash acquire an understanding for energy riffles.

* * *

Outside, things were not nearly so calm. Most of the humans had left, either with Autobots or in their own craft, but the socializing was still in high gear among those remaining. The Joes and Japanese were the only ones who seemed reluctant to leave when Hound suddenly tensed and turned his full focus on tracing the signal he'd picked up. The other Autobots promptly turned their attention outward as well.

It only took a nanoklik to target the Seeker walking towards them, his blue paint marred by scorch marks, his faction insignia scraped and burned off his wings and his obvious weapons missing.

"Keep me covered," Ratchet said, responding first as he transformed to drive out to meet Thundercracker, seeing he was injured, though not sure how badly from this range. He wasn't really that surprised that Ezara, her Guard and Lyzen were in the air over him a moment later, or that Prime and Red Alert objected.

Whippoorwill darted ahead, flicked over and around Thundercracker with a curious trilling chitter he responded to in kind.

::Ratchet, let him talk to Ezara first,:: Whippoorwill radioed back even as Ironhide caught up with Ratchet. ::He's here for her, not us.::

::Is he in need of repairs?:: Ratchet asked, quickly running a basic scan, but trusting Thundercracker to have a better idea of what his baseline was. The Seeker had stopped his approach and was now waiting for them. His vitals were elevated, but that was expected given the situation.

::Nothing serious,:: she replied. ::He could use the attention, but rest and time will see to it as well.::

::Let him know I'm available - I'll make sure med bay's ready,:: Ratchet told her as he slowed down to turn around with Ironhide flanking him. ::Assuming I'm not finding him in the brig.::

::He will be told,:: she promised as she remained in the air with Skjöldur while Ezara and Lyzen landed and transformed.

::What's going on?:: Jazz opened a comm to Whippoorwill.

::Thundercracker only has minor injuries and he is here to speak to Ezara,:: she relayed quickly. Though her voice was level, he could catch the tension in it. Even if she wasn't Ezara's Guard, this wasn't a normal situation.

::Keep an eye on him - he's not armed, but that doesn't mean this isn't a trick. I'll let the people inside know.::

"Are my optics glitching, or is Thundercracker _kneeling_?" Optimus asked no one in particular as Autobots, Tezita and humans all watched in tense fascination as the Seeker's manner went from tense uncertainty to a determined stillness when one knee rested on the earth, his arms at his sides and open hands turned towards the Tezita rulers.

"They aren't glitchin'," Jazz murmured. ::What is he saying?:: he commed Whippoorwill.

::That she has his trine, and he would follow them if she'll have him,:: the Guard almost quoted, her circles tight and close to the ground as Ezara stood and considered him while Lyzen all but stalked around him. ::The damage was done by the Rainmakers when they drove him off to secure their status as the dominant Decepticon trine.::

::Was that before, or after, he tried cutting out his Marks?:: Jazz asked her, considering how all of this fit into what he knew about Thundercracker's personality profile. It didn't seem like a trick of some sort - not Thundercracker's style to agree to something like this. But then, Megatron could convince a 'Con to do nearly anything with his fusion cannon.

There was a pause and Lyzen asked him something that caused the Seeker to look up and over his shoulder at her before answering.

::They stripped his left side in front of Megatron and the other Seekers after driving him to ground and beating him. He removed what was left of the ones on his right after he got away,:: she reported.

Lyzen looked over at Ezara and nodded. Then Ezara reached out and caught Thundercracker's chin to guide him to his feet. His expression was both a pensive and relieved when she turned and motioned him to follow her to the Ark.

"What did we just witness?" General Hawk asked Jazz.

"The Tezita just got their first Cybertronian recruit," Jazz explained. "Thundercracker was driven away by some of the internal politics and the fact that the members of his original wing are here; Ezara just took him into her forces. The Decepticons have just officially lost their dominant trine completely, instead of replacing the lost members - gotta love their personnel management."

"It does say something about both Thundercracker and the 'Cons that he defected," Scarlett considered the scene, Ezara's utterly smug expression, Lyzen's apparently pleased one and the way the former 'Con kept at least one of them between himself and the strongest of the glaring, agitated Autobot warriors.

"You have _got_ to be joking!" Sunstreaker suddenly exploded when it dawned on him that the Seeker was _walking_ into the Ark and not in stasis cuffs or unconscious.

Prowl stepped up, a pair of stasis cuffs in hand, only to pause at the look he got from Ezara.

"No," she locked optics with him, her arm outstretched to block his approach. "Thundercracker is not a prisoner."

"That hasn't been determined yet," Prowl said firmly.

"He's defecting, Prowl," Optimus pointed out. "Of course, he'll have to be kept under close surveillance," he added, looking at Ezara, hoping she wouldn't object.

"A given," Lyzen said smoothly even as Ezara nodded. "You are familiar with Ezara's spiders?"

"Enough," Optimus nodded, watching as a coil grew in Lyzen's hand.

"I prefer snakes, but they are the same thing," she said and lifted her hand to Thundercracker's shoulder. "It will remain with him at all times."

"I don't know about this," Thundercracker almost shied away from the nanite snake half the length of his forearm. It was only the knowledge that it was by far his least painful option that kept him from rejecting the idea outright. After glaring at it balefully for a moment, he relented and shifted a bit to allow the thing to slither onto his shoulder between his vent and neck.

"If there is any trouble, it is a recorder that can't be turned off or bypassed," she continued.

"Which will work whoever there may be trouble with," Prime agreed, not looking at anybody in particular with the statement, but the intent was clear enough. "We'll discuss your options later, regarding any changes you might want made now that you're out of the Decepticons," he told Thundercracker.

"For now, I want him in medbay," Lyzen said in a tone that brooked no argument and ushered him into the Ark. "Minor damage or not, you need a full physical so Olasia knows how to fix you later."

"What are the rules for me?" he asked quietly when they were out of the audio range of others.

"No flying solo," she began with what she was sure would be the least popular one. "I don't want you shot down. No baiting Autobots. You may defend yourself, but if you start the conflict, you'll be in the brig as fast as anyone who starts one with you. No lying or holding back from Olasia, Ezara, myself or the Autobot medics. Prime has the same authority to give you orders and Ezara and I do. Obey the medics. They can and will hurt you worse than anything I'd do."

Thundercracker nodded his understanding as they reached the medbay where Ratchet, First Aid, Swoop and Olasia were waiting for them.

"Skywarp is in medical stasis, being repaired and will be there for most of another stellar cycle. Starscream ... he doesn't remember much of anything," she added as Ratchet stalked up to them, glaring at his newest patient.

"You. Berth." The CMO pointed to one in the middle of the room.

"Try not to traumatize him too much," Lyzen gave Ratchet a teasing look.

"Never too much," Ratchet snorted as she left.

"So, how much do you think he was telling you the truth about why he left?" Jazz asked as he fell into step with her outside the medbay.

"The events I'm reasonably sure of. Acid Storm, Sunstorm and Stormfront did do what he said they did. Why seems likely, but I'm withholding a decision on that until after he's repaired and I've spent an orn or two alone with him."

"Will there be any objection to my seeing logs from that time?" He asked her politely. "He's your defector, but from our enemy."

"I don't mind," she agreed readily. "Do not expect much tactical data. His social standard, skills and logic processes are primarily what I'll be after. The things we need to know to determine how best to use him once he's up to speed."

"Understood," he nodded. "But it'll help me get a better feeling for how sincere he is, too. I'm still worried that this might be some sort of trick or trap."

Lyzen smiled down at him as they neared the entrance and the lively conversations that had picked back up there. "Short of a deeply embedded sleeper program, I will know if he has an ulterior motive or plan before I turn him loose on the Ark. Defecting is not a pleasant process, but we don't hold grudges either."

"Not something that can be said for everybody here," he admitted. "Let Optimus know about anything semi-serious that happens, even if Thundercracker doesn't think it's worth mentioning. Bravado can cover up the start of a very bad fight."

"I will keep that in mind," she promised. "Unless he choose medical stasis and de-Forging, I will be surprised if there are not at least a couple serious brawls before he settles in. I could wish for a smoother transition, but I do know better."


	4. Hunting with Mirage

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_:  
_Rating_:  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary_

* * *

**Wanderer's Home arc 3 pt 04: Hunting with Mirage**

* * *

"You are a very quick study," Mirage said with honest approval after their third round of target practice, each one seeing Tarinash improve noticeably.

"Thank you," the civilian-raised, military-framed Tezita smiled at him warmly, openly grateful for the praise.

"Think you're ready to head outdoors for a while?" Mirage asked him. "Stretch out, maybe find a good place for a little hunting?"

"I'd love to," his smile brightened a bit more as he followed Mirage's lead on putting their target weapons away.

Mirage felt the slight disturbance of a secure burst transmission, a similar reply, and then Tarinash was at his side, just a touch behind him.

"The Si'Mir agreed if you are willing to show me around before the local dawn. I'll miss the official tour," he explained.

"Not a problem," Mirage nodded. "Honestly, the tour doesn't take very long. So, how fast is your alt?" He asked, swapping for two of his modified hunting rifles and heading out.

"It should be able to break the sound barrier on open ground," he said easily as he passed one to Tarinash. "It looks like a silver Lamborghini Countach, but I've kept the internal design from home."

"What is it with you Tezitans and flashy sportscars?" Mirage chuckled, subspacing his rifle before anybody noticed and questioned him. "I prefer my F-1 racer, myself. When you consider the price tag and maintenance, they're much more exclusive."

"I expect so," he smiled at the smaller, much lighter mech. "It has far more to do with how one thinks of oneself. Most of us you have met so far are all coded to move and think fast; victory by outmaneuvering. You can't kill what you can't hit. It's standard officer coding. When the cruisers come, you will meet other code-sets. Heavy infantry, snipers, non-native fliers, transports, couriers, scientists and more. We do have some level of purpose-coding, like your kind."

"Fair enough," he chuckled. Once they were outside, he passed one of the rifles over to Tarinash. "These are dialed in so they'll only stun the local creatures," he explained. "I recommend not shooting at aerial creatures unless you can catch them safely - part of my 'not pissing off my officers' plan," he said, transforming into his vehicular form.

He paused, his engine at idle as his sensors took in the Tezita's flowing shift into the newest model Countach, his silver finish as brilliant as Sunstreaker's gold. Despite _looking_ like he was sitting on the ground, the noble's sensors told him otherwise. Tarinash may look local, but everything about how he moved was as alien as the mech himself.

They drove in silence for a while, Mirage enjoying how open his companion was to his polite but curious scans and Tarinash taking in the alien environment and a companion who didn't treat him like the aberration of nature he was.

::How bad is it?:: Mirage asked him over a tight burst transmission. ::Living between the two worlds?::

::It ... depends,:: Tarinash responded the same way. ::Some enjoy the status a great deal. I still wonder why I could not have been placed in a civilian frame, and why the Si'Mir tolerates my continued existence. I'm as ill-suited to my use now as I am in combat.::

::How so?:: Mirage asked him, running through his own databanks on the subject for anything he could put together... nothing was coming to him, yet, but hopefully Tarinash would explain it. From his side, at least.

::I am a favor ... given in trade for something those who raised me did or would do for the military. It is very prestigious to have a military youngling and nearly as prestigious to have one as your mate. It gives those who raised me much social influence, both from their obvious ties to the Si'Mir and in garnering favors from those seeking to court me. I was raised with the expectation that once mated I would influence my new family to assist both those who raised me and the military. Despite upgrades and extra programs, I fail utterly at subterfuge and subtle manipulation. I'm not even very good at overt manipulation unless it's very important to me and that's just being unsociably stubborn on my part. The only skills I do excel at are dance, poetry, youngling care and interfacing. They are things that make me an attractive as a trophy mate, but almost useless to those who raised me, the Si'Mir or even the head of any family I might be mated into.::

The words rushed across the transmission in a torrent Mirage knew all too well. He'd had the same kind of response when he finally broke down and accepted that Jazz _cared_ about _him_ and wasn't just trying to make him vulnerable. That Tarinash was doing it so readily either meant he was emotionally unstable, or so desperate for any kind of acceptance he was willing to risk rejection this fast.

Most likely the second, particularly given the rejection from Ezara, and how quickly he could vacate any situation on Earth or Cybertron.

::'Trophy mates' can still have a great deal of influence, particularly when it's known that they're not good at subterfuge,:: Mirage offered. ::The skills you have all make you sound like you'd be a very desirable mate, at least as a secondary.::

There was a long silence, and Mirage allowed his words to sink in at their own pace. He had little doubt that Tarinash had heard them before, but maybe not from someone who wasn't trying to manipulate him into a relationship.

"It is reminiscent of the stories of ancient Lydrom," Tarinash said with a mixture of awe and controlled fear, abruptly and completely changing the subject. "So much green and biolife."

::Watch your out-loud voice - prey have good hearing around here,:: Mirage warned him as some nearby antelopes stood and darted away from them. ::But you're right. Cybertron never had anything like this, as far as I'm aware. No native bio-life at all.::

::There are memories from Delta Six's time still being passed on of the creatures that once lived,:: he couldn't help the mental shudder. The local life didn't bother him, but what he was thinking of was undeniably frightening. ::You have seen Ezara's beast-form? The six-limbed 'wolverine'?:: he added a picture of the basic design to the transmission.

::Oh yes,:: Mirage chuckled lowly. ::A little rough for my usual tastes, but very much like a super-sized Ravage. That would be something for a whole group to hunt, and with spears as well as blasters.::

::You have no idea,:: Tarinash's form actually shuddered, but his voice carried with it a definite amazement that Mirage would consider hunting such a creature. ::It's a mid-sized predator of the time, and she is accurately sized for it. Only the Lydrom were half her height at most. Some Beast-sparks in the preserves are of larger, more social beasts. Only the best warriors dare hunt there. The odds of coming back are low.

::I much prefer things that can't maim or kill me.::

::I understand,:: Mirage reassured him. ::Hunting for entertainment should only be risky for your targets. But here, there's very little that could harm either of us. Even the largest predators would hurt themselves before doing more than scratching my surface.::

::Which would do even less to me,:: Tarinash relaxed a bit more as he took in the high plains. ::What are we hunting today?::

::If we're lucky, wolves. More likely coyote - wolves aren't nearly as common these days as they used to be. If we do come across any though, our human contacts will appreciate if we tag them.::

Tarinash paused to download information on both species and assess it. ::Yes, wolves prefer more forested terrain. This is perfect coyote land.::

Mirage paused and silently signaled a transformation to begin the actual hunt.

::Do you hunt the same few each time?:: Tarinash asked curiously as he flowed to his bipedal form.

Mirage only barely paid enough attention to realize that the other mech was now his height and not Prime's.

::Not normally,:: Mirage said easily. ::Though it is more of a challenge after you've caught the same one a couple of times. If you had a cloak, I'd show you the game I developed before I refined the stun setting, but this should be fine.:: He dropped down low, his metallic form shifting colors so it was closer to blending in without being fully cloaked.

Tarinash lowered himself as well, his nanite mass shifting into a longer form with shorter limbs that was much better suited to the position of creeping forward nearly on his belly. He studied Mirage for a long moment, then his own coloration shifted to blend in, though it was more a mimicking of what was on the other side of his body.

::I detect many small animals, but nothing large enough to be a coyote,:: Tarinash commented silently, his senses wide open as he sought out their quarry.

::That's why we're here - those are prey animals,:: Mirage explained. ::They'll come out more as the afternoon carries on, but we'll need a little time to blend into the area. Do you have sonar sensors?::

::No,:: he resisted the urge to move his head. ::That kind of advanced sensor package is well beyond anything I'd need.::

::Good. If you did, I was going to warn you not to use it. They can hear pulses in that range. Right now, it's patience until they come out.::

Tarinash settled in for the wait, his form flattening out a bit. He diverted much of his attention from touch to audio and shifted the focus of his optical sensors to infrared.

::Do you have a mate?:: the Tezita asked absently as they relaxed and waited.

::Had a few candidates, but they're not around anymore,:: Mirage said, a bit of pain in the response. ::The noble lines were generally the fastest to fall, at least the ones I'd have anything to do with. The other ones generally went Decepticon in self-defense.::

::Oh,:: Tarinash sounded decidedly sheepish about asking. ::I'm sorry. Things like that don't happen on Lydrom. Civilians are really targeted in your wars?:: he tried not to sound as sickened as he was by the idea.

::They're not supposed to be, but Megatron doesn't believe in rules that don't benefit him,:: Mirage explained grimly. ::More importantly, most of us weren't really civilians. We never had a split between civilians and military like the Tezita do - our civilians have always been willing and expected to pick up arms if needed.::

::How can you have an effective fighting force if most can't upload combat protocols?:: Tarinash didn't even try to hide how bewildering a concept that was. ::Even military scientists are warriors first, then something else as they have the spark for it.::

::I think the easiest way to picture it is that we're all military, after a fashion,:: Mirage told him after a few kliks to think it over. ::Perceptor is one of the closest mechs we have to a pacifist, and he's _almost_ as good a shot as I am. There's no such thing as a Cybertronian who can't handle combat programming - it's not part of our nature, not yet. Some of us might not _like_ to fight, but we're all capable of accepting the training.::

Tarinash mulled that over for a time, picking the idea apart several different ways with an elegant social adaptation program he wasn't even aware of being unusual. ::How many live as warriors in peace time?::

::A handful, and even fewer of them involved in active combat. Most of our peacetime warriors are like Magnus - base commanders who make sure the defense lasers are maintained and manned, in case of evasion. Others are like Ironhide and in the Civil Defense Force for handling riots and things a little too big for the Enforcers to handle,:: Mirage explained. ::Most of the rest engage in some sort of trade or research, unless they're one of the ruling families.::

::What did bots like Jazz and Whiplash do?:: he asked, more than a bit fascinated by the idea no matter how alien it was.

::Mostly what they do now, just on a smaller scale... there we go,:: Mirage observed, shifting down so he was prone, activating his cloak fully. ::Saw one; should be coming out of its den shortly.::

Tarinash focused his senses, following where Mirage's line of sight had been before he vanished, but he couldn't hold his attention to the hunt very well. The mech next to him was far, far more interesting than any animal. The fully cloaked presence clicked several things into place without any level of conscious thought, or even real awareness.

All the Tezita recognized was that Mirage was _interesting_. Worthy of time, attention ... and maybe allow Tarinash to finally do something _right_ for those who continued to allow his existence. Mirage was Intel. An officer of rank. A noble of some rank. He knew things, had allegiances to important people that needed to be influenced. Even if all he could do was make a ranking officer be reluctant to betray them for a few dozen millennia, it was a worthy use of his life.

A few moments later, he saw the tawny-furred head peek out above the short grasses, the animal sniffing the air for a trace of appropriate prey. There was a violet bolt, the sound of a blaster discharging, and the animal slumped to the ground unconscious as Mirage uncloaked and rose.

"I'll check to make sure it's all right, and be right back - it should be fine." Mirage said as he walked towards his 'kill', fully aware of the shift in Tarinash's attention in the past few breems. With a small smile on his lips, he made a subtle, Towers display of himself. Flirting as only nobles did it, and kept a passive sensor set on the response of the alien who's own sensors were much more clearly locked on him.

A brief moment to make sure he hadn't done any permanent damage, and Mirage turned back to take a look at Tarinash.

"Do you want to come take a closer look, while we have a chance?" He offered.

The Tezita flowed into his biped form and walked forward with a shy smile, indirect gaze and sway to his body that bore a distinct resemblance to the show he'd just been given. It wasn't quite Tower flirting at Mirage's level, but by Primus the alien was doing a good imitation.

Tarinash was all grace as he knelt to pick up the limp animal, not even as long as one of his fingers.

"It's so delicate," he murmured as he brought the leggy tan creature close to his face.

"Very - be careful with it," Mirage warned him, moving around behind him. "It's easy to hurt them by mistake if you're not careful. Amazing to think that creatures like this happened without anybody making them - Wheeljack likes to keep rambling on about them being well-engineered." He put a hand, very gently, on Tarinash's shoulder, gauging his response to the touch with a keen awareness of all the warning about who got to initiate contact among the Tezita.

"Survival will do that," he chuckled softly and leaned into the contact slightly as he continued to study the creature. A few of his nanites slipped into Mirage's hand to make it tingle pleasantly and he lowered much of his outer shielding. He didn't reach out, but he left himself open if the other wanted in. "The best suited to supply the needs of them and their young have more descendants who survive. The results do frequently look engineered."

Mirage let his mind brush lightly against Tarinash's, seeing if he was willing to let him in. When there was no resistance, he took a light peek, mostly curious just what Tarinash was thinking as he inspected the creature, but his eyes open in case anything else was readily apparent.

He found a welcoming warmth and softness, and no matter how alien the specifics of the language and heritage, the direct contact made it impossible to misinterpret the intent of it. It was also hard to miss that he was offered a great deal of information on concepts like evolution, both in biologicals and in Tezita, in response to his curiosity. Beyond the two huge leaps, they were part of a rapidly evolving set of species and were well aware of that nature.

The more curiosity he showed, the more Tarinash obliged him with information. Much of it the dry learning of his education, an insight into how little he'd been out in the real world, but here and there were brighter spots where life had linked up in one way or another to illuminate a lesson.

Within it all, Mirage became perfectly aware that at some point in the hunt he had become _interesting_ to the Tezita. Whether that meant fooling around, as a lover or something serious wasn't nearly as clear.

He'd have to figure that out over time; for now, he doubted he was going to get a clear reaction. He drew back politely, aware that it wouldn't be _too_ long before his quarry started to recover.

"You might want to set it down soon; want to watch it until it heads off on its own, or go off on our own somewhere?"

Tarinash flicked his chin up in acceptance and knelt to carefully set the creature on the ground even more gently than Mirage could by having nanites flow out from under it instead of sliding it from his hand.

As he stood, the back of his fingers sliding along Mirage's in a coy touch. "I'd like to go off on our own," he gave Mirage a flirtatious look as he stepped far enough away for them to transform if that was what the noble had in mind.

"I know a better place than this," Mirage winked, transforming and waiting for Tarinash before taking off towards a nearby cavern complex. He had to be far more careful of his low undercarriage than the Tezita did, but Tarinash didn't seem to mind at all. He felt Tarinash's sensors roving him rather shamelessly. Not enough to be rude, but there was no missing it either.

Mirage found his way to the cavern entrance, then transformed again to find a place slightly back from the entrance.

"Here's a good spot," he rumbled lowly as Tarinash shifted to stand up as well, his transformation sequence looking more Cybertronian than Tezitan in the dim light. "Might not be the most comfortable, but we've got some privacy for once."

"Privacy is good," Tarinash all but purred and stepped close, just inside Mirage's personal space but not close enough that they touched. "You have such lovely markings," he added, not quite sure if the compliment would carry over as intended, but trying with something he thought would be reasonably universal.

"Thank you," Mirage said, his engine purring as he reached to touch him lightly and felt the heat of desire burn across the contact hot enough to make his intakes catch. "Do you prefer physical, or mental, attention?"

"Mmm, I like both," he pressed into the contact with a sensual arc of his supple body. "But mental," he shivered faintly and made no effort to hide what just thinking of it did to him. "Is so very intimate," his voice was a velvet soft whisper across the spy's lips.

~It's been a while for you, hasn't it?~ Mirage asked him, kissing him gently and pressing their minds together lightly. He found Tarinash more than receptive with an open willingness to let him in, or follow to Mirage's mind-space.

~Longer than I care to think about,~ he all but trembled in Mirage's arms as he slid his own up and around the spy's neck in a loose embrace. The kiss that followed was gentle, respectful, but desperately hungry as the physical world faded into the background in favor of the intimacy of their minds.

~What type of bodies do you like?~ Mirage asked him, drawing him into the Towers of Iacon during the golden age, gleaming metal and creature comforts everywhere. He could feel how familiar it felt to his lover in general and that it was alien in the details at the same time.

~Lydrom,~ he whispered in Mirage's ear as their forms solidified.

The answer was no surprise to the spy, though the fact that they were both dressed was a bit of one.

"Do you like to watch, or be touched, until you can't hold back?" Tarinash stood in front of him, chest pressed against chest and warmth against warmth. His hands slid across the well-defined muscles of Mirage's shoulders, their lips only a breath apart.

"I can't say I have much experience with either - why don't you show me your favorite?" Mirage asked him with a kiss, moving his tall, lean, blue body back towards the bed. He knew the answer before Tarinash moved, but when the Tezita took a step back and let his submissive and Tower-like manners fall away it nearly took the spy's breath away.

Against everything he projected, Tarinash was well-taught and knew exactly how to use his body to elicit the response he wanted. Mirage almost absently realized there was soft music playing in the background. The beat was Tezitan, but the instruments were Cybertronian, and he couldn't take his eyes off the seductive blue form that was slowly revealing itself several paces away.

With a low rumble in his throat, he leaned back, staying fully dressed and watching the show the Tezitan was putting on for him, enjoying the seductive dance and feeling himself stir. He was aching between his legs by the time Tarinash had shed the last of his clothing, and a their joint mindspace let him understand the full implications of having the short tail curled around the Tezita's hip to cover his sex from the side instead of up between his legs.

It was an open, unmistakable invitation while maintaining some level of modesty. It wasn't really something Cybertronians had an equivalent to, and for a brief moment Mirage found the tail and visible sexual display appealing just for that.

"Get over here," he rumbled deeply, starting to undo his shirt, the hunger in his voice clear to the other noble. Attention wasn't something he had a hard time finding when he wanted it, but somebody like Tarinash had been entirely too hard to find, even before leaving Cybertron.

Tarinash looked at him with smoldering desire and sauntered over, not giving a single physical hint of how badly he wanted to be taken.

"Something I can help you with, Lord Mirage?" the Tezita asked with that low, sultry voice that made Mirage's breath catch in his throat.

"Why don't you start with my boots?" Mirage rumbled deeply, trying to keep some semblance of control over the situation, sure that was what Tarinash would prefer right now.

Slender, agile fingers unlaced the leather and slid them off before returning to knead the exposed flesh and skin. The pleasure of the firm touch came as enough surprise to cause Mirage to gasp. His eyes closed and head tipped back as he allowed himself to indulge in the unique feeling.

It wasn't until he felt the heat of Tarinash's face against his knee that he looked back down and shuddered at the unreined desire in the soft blue eyes.

"Just how submissive are you?" He asked, reaching down to stroke his cheek. "What do you like to do?"

When Tarinash tipped his face and captured one finger in his mouth before lavishing it with his tongue and suction, Mirage shuddered. His groin pulsed with a deep ache as he watched his finger slide in and out of his mouth and the absolutely wanton expression of the face between his knees.

~I'm less submissive then I was taught to me,~ Tarinash purred so he didn't have to give up the finger in his mouth to communicate. ~But what I like,~ a slight tremor passed down his frame. ~Is to use my mouth, and break my lover's self-control.~

~Then why don't you take my pants down, and fill your mouth with something more to your tastes?~

Tarinash smiled and pulled back so Mirage's finger slipped from between his lips. Despite his own eagerness, he took his time opening the buttons on Mirage's pants and kept his touch feather-light as he pulled them down, then off.

He kissed his way up Mirage's inner thigh and delicately ran the tip of his tongue along the underside of the hard shaft waiting for him.

"You like taking your time, don't you?" Mirage purred, rubbing his ears lightly. "How much do you want me to bother trying to hold back?"

"Not at all, unless it _really_ works you up to do so," Tarinash flicked his tongue along the small slit at the top of Mirage's penis before trailing kisses down the length and drawing one velvet-furred testicle into his mouth.

"Noted," Mirage groaned, wrapping a leg around Tarinash's back lightly, probing his lover's mind lightly for any particular fantasies he had in mind, sharing a few images in his own with the smaller Lydrom. He felt the shudder and anticipation in Tarinash's response and smiled. He'd expected a normal, possibly hesitant encounter. Nothing about this was either, and he was enjoying indulging more than usual. Even if his lover wasn't inclined to have him hold back, he decided to just a little. It would make the taking all the more intense.

Mirage barely realized he'd closed his fingers around Tarinash's head until the younger noble pressed against them slightly as he tried to draw upwards around his penis.

Mirage let him, but kept his hands on his head, guiding him along his throbbing shaft, slowly taking more control as his throaty purr became deeper and hungrier, his balls twitching lightly. He could feel just how much his lover was enjoying the taste and feel of pleasuring him with even the lightest attention to the other's mind. Tarinash may have been taught how to do this well, but he left Mirage with no doubts how much he loved it.

The rush of how arousing this was to Tarinash caused Mirage to groan and tremble until he got himself under control again, but he was slipping. Between the pleasure and what it was doing to his lover, he wouldn't have much self-control left soon.

"Get up here," he rumbled, pulling Tarinash up and kissing him, sliding out from under him and bending him over the bed. "I think it's about time I gave you some attention," he rumbled, still in his shirt as he fingered the smaller male's ass. The tight ring of muscle gave easily and the passage was already slick; ready for Mirage to sink into him.

A looked up the fine lines of the back displayed for him, the way Tarinash had his head to the side to watch, his eyes nearly dilated black, and long, elegant fingers curled into the bedding in an effort to control the trembling desire in the rest of him.

"Mmm ... I like a well-prepared plaything," Mirage rumbled, slipping around behind him and biting down on his shoulder lightly as he sank his throbbing rod deep into Tarinash's ass with a smooth, powerful thrust.

Stars danced in his vision as the pleasure of his taking fed back into his systems to mingle with the pleasure he felt directly. Tarinash moaned and trembled, milking the cock hilted inside him to heighten the joint pleasure.

"Not going to take long this time," Mirage murmured, starting to thrust hard and fast, not holding back in the least as he pounded Tarinash's tight ass. He pressed against the warm back under him and closed his fingers tightly around Tarinash's hips to hold him against the thrusts.

A flash of intense heat licked out from the Tezita's core with a wanton cry and muscles tensed. Pleasure followed it, and another wave of searing heat that Mirage didn't try to resist. With a roar he'd never utter out loud he overloaded hard, emptying the fluids these bodies used for procreation into his lover.

He kept thrusting, reaching around to stroke his lover's shaft as he panted, his breath hot on Tarinash's neck and shoulder.

"Damn good at this," he rumbled, stroking Tarinash's cock faster as he thrust.

A low, deep moan was all Tarinash could muster in reply as he was pushed towards a second overload right on the heals of the first. His entire body trembled and panted as he pushed back against Mirage and into the trusts. Fingers clawed into the bedding and his short tail tried to wrap around his lover's waist.

"That's right - we do have these to play with," Mirage rumbled throatily, curling his tail up between their legs to rub against his lover's shaft and balls as he thrust.

"Ahhh!" he jerked at the unexpected sensation somewhere between ticklish and pleasure. A low moan came next and he panted again, dragging in deep lungful of cool air as he worked his body around the cock sliding in and out of him in such a pleasurably delicious rhythm.

Mirage didn't bother to hold back at all now, letting himself overload several more times before he finally relaxed and pulled back, just pressing close to Tarinash's mental body, holding him gently as they gradually calmed and cooled down.

He didn't hide the smile when Tarinash snuggled back against him, a thrumming purr reverberating in the space and through their bodies.

"This may not have been what I had in mind, but a couple wraa on Earth might not be so bad," Tarinash murmred, more than content to remain in Mirage's arms and braced against the side of the bed.

"I'm certainly not going to complain," Mirage agreed, shifting him up onto the bed and climbing in with him. He drew Tarinash into his arms and pulled him tightly against his chest as they snuggled close, aware that the action was mimicked in the physical world.


	5. In Good Faith

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_:  
_Rating_:  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary_

* * *

**Wanderer's Home arc 3 pt 05: In Good Faith**

* * *

"Did anyone tell _you_ what this is about?" Ultra Magnus asked his pilot, also his Chief of Intelligence and SIC, gruffly.

"Nothing more than the four of us needed to get to the Ark ASAP," Whiplash responded evenly, a trace of irritation in his own voice that warned his CO that he was likely telling the truth. So few things irritated the black ops tactician quite like having intel withheld from him.

Ultra Magnus looked at the other two Autobots on the shuttle. Moonlit he could understand. She was the Intel SIC and nearly as good as Whiplash at the job. Not quite as deadly or subtly seductive, but an exceptional agent and officer in his opinion. Grinder, on the other hand, mystified him. Yes, the big grunt was a remarkably loyal soldier and a fine example of a Decepticon-smashing engine of destruction, but he hardly fit into this top-echelon briefing that was shaping up. He had neither the processor nor programming to be much more than the basic grunt he did so well at.

"We will know within half a joor, sir," Moonlit brought him back to focus with her professionally calm voice touched with a sweet lilt. "No one is in stasis cuffs, so it can't be that bad."

* * *

Ultra Magnus was the first to step out of the small shuttle when it landed outside the Ark on Earth to be greeted by Optimus Prime, Prowl, Jazz, Red Alert, Ironhide, Ratchet, Ezara and two Tezita he didn't recognize.

"Introductions first, Optimus said after he stepped forward and grasped Magnus' arm in greeting. "The femme is Emirc Lyzen Kikn'nah, the Vistra Si'Mir."

"Chief of Intelligence," Whiplash supplied. "One of the three top powers in their government."

Optimus nodded to the accuracy of the statement. "The mech is Cota Tonen, the Vistra Aunu'e'tuk."

"Keeper of Dates," the mech, painted in a relatively simple geometric design in muted pallet compared to the larger femmes, spoke in flawless government Cybertronian. "The Toe'Emirc's personal secretary is the best translation we've come up with."

"Come in," Optimus stalled any questions. "The rest of this is for a very secure conference room."

Ultra Magnus nodded and his group fell in with the Ark officers and the three Tezita. The walk was short, quiet and tense as any time either Autobot commander could think of. It was the Lydrom Si'Mir's tension that made it unsettling. No matter what had been agreed to, there was no missing just how unhappy she was right now.

When the door shut behind Grinder, Optimus motioned everyone to take a seat. To no one surprise, the room broke down by command without a word or signal between them. With everyone seated, he drew in a deep breath and let it out his vents.

"Emirc Kikn'nah has agreed to hand over her agents within the Autobots as a show of good faith," Optimus explained and waited for the reactions he knew were coming from the Cybertron contingent.

Ultra Magnus was the first to recover from the surprise at hearing it.

"Thank you," he said politely. "We understand their presence, but it will be good to know who they are. I know it worries some of our people."

"But why am I here?" Grinder asked nervously. "I'm not command."

"You know," Lyzen said softly as she stood and walked around the table. She slid her hand along Grinder's broad shoulder. "You can both drop the act now."

"Yes, Si'Mir," Grinder switched to the Si'Mir's dialect instantly. His manner shifted, becoming proud as he met the optics of the various Autobots. "My name is Amoni," Grinder's voice spoke in the Autobot dialect once more. "I am a Mir, an infiltrator specialist for the Si'Mir."

"How long?" Ultra Magnus asked.

Jazz looked between all the others to see who the second one was. No matter who, it was an inexcusable breech of security and a serious shame to his entire division.

"I found his still-warm shell on a battlefield fifty-two metacycles ago," Amoni answered. "His spark was gone but his memory banks were largely intact."

"And I never noticed a thing," Magnus grumbled. "Your job, I know, but still irritating to me."

"Thank you, sir," Amoni inclined his head to the commander.

"My name is Etri. Did I do as well?" Whiplash asked quietly, his gaze down and body language neutral even at Ezara's gasp. He met no one's optics as he waited for the reaction that came after the shock of the revelation. He knew Jazz would be utterly horrified and Moonlit murderous, just as Whiplash would be if their positions were reversed.

"You too? No, but I'm not really surprised by that," Ultra Magnus admitted. "I never was that close to Whiplash in the first place."

"_How_?" Jazz finally managed to sputter. "You may not have been close," he looked at Ultra Magnus. "But, fragit, I was," he focused back on Etri. "I've been in your systems recently too."

"That was risky," he acknowledged with a somewhat sad smile for Whiplash's former student, one who felt like it was his own student and life-long lover. "But refusing would have been far more difficult to explain than anything you could have found."

Despite the hurt and furious expression on Jazz's face, Etri saw a working relationship that was salvageable. Jazz was still seated after all. None of them were inclined to allow a traitor to suffer life any longer than required of them.

"I thought you chose low to mid-ranking individuals?" Jazz struggled to focus on anything but his emotional reaction.

"That is standard operating procedure," Etri said with a slight inclination of his head, well aware that Moonlit was staring at him with that tight, cold expression she wore when she was a single processor click away from openly rebelling with swift, lethal violence. "However we are opportunists by design," he paused when he realized just how displeased Lyzen was looking and turned his attention to her. "He was too good a spark to let go without trying."

"When Whiplash was captured," Magnus realized. "I'd been surprised that he'd been MIA so long ... was he actually captured, or killed, when that happened?"

"He'd been captured. I went in looking for easy bodies. While I was exploring, I heard an interrogation session so I slipped in to watch and listen."

Lyzen's optics narrowed considerably with a low clicking kiss. "You _didn't_."

"Technically, no," he said smoothly even as she walked over and clamped a hand on his shoulder hard enough to make him flinch. "It is why I asked for Ratchet to be present."

Lyzen's optics went wide in full comprehension, then she muttered something under her breath and flicked her chin. "You always were a rescuer, Etri," she sighed. "Finish the story."

"He held out, gave them nothing," Etri said, his voice full of respect. "I know more than a few things about getting secrets out of the unwilling. Those working him were good. He was better. When they tossed him back in his cell, I followed. Understandably, he thought I was a hallucination at first," he endured another deadly scowl from Lyzen. "I offered him a chance to continue to serve the Autobot cause and a failsafe greater than permanent deactivation to keep his secrets from the Decepticons."

"How long?" Jazz asked, his tone almost flat in resignation. "How long did he last?"

"Two full metacycles after I found him," Etri answered. "He'd been there twenty three orn when I found him."

"And it sounds like you're saying that Whiplash is still reparable?" Magnus asked him, which instantly earned the both of them Ratchet's full attention.

"He's saying there is a possibility," Lyzen continued to glare at her operative, who didn't seem all that bothered by her anger now. "There is a _reason_ we don't take live ones. It's a mess to untangle for both sides."

"He knew the risks, so did I," Etri met her gaze. "The advantages have been extensive to both of us."

"How close to dead was he, when he agreed?" Jazz asked quietly.

"Less than a breem by my scans. Likely a lot less," Etri answered. "He waited until the very last klik to accept it was his only chance to survive."

"Can you give me an idea of what I need to treat?" Ratchet asked them seriously.

"Systemwide shock," Etri turned his attention to the medic. "I have been integrated into this body, including his processors and memory banks, for fifty metacycles. While I intend to be as gentle as I can in leaving, he hasn't actually controlled any of his systems, even the automatic ones, in that long. I expect some level of psychological trauma too, similar to loosing a spark-bond, and that of prolonged stasis. We have been one entity for a fair length of time."

"Is there any way I'll be able to get you both to Medical so that I can get as many of his critical systems as possible on support before you leave?" Ratchet asked him.

"That would be up to Prime and the Si'Mir," he looked at the two ranking bots.

Lyzen let out a deep, frustrated sound. "You know I can't reassign you while he lives."

Etri looked back to her, his expression half apology, half determined. "I know, Si'Mir. Some lives are worth it."

"This one better be," she glowered at him before looking at Ratchet. "Yes, medbay is fine. That's where this was headed anyway. Less trauma for the crew."

"Yes," Optimus said easily before focusing on Lyzen. "Trauma?"

"Seeing two death-gray bodies carried out of a conference room isn't good for most," she said evenly.

"Fair enough," he nodded slightly. "Is there anything else we should discuss before dealing with this?"

"I do not believe so," Lyzen responded.

"I'd rather handle it as soon as possible," Ratchet offered. "At the very least, I'd appreciate being excused to prepare for a full emergency. I'd like to have Wheeljack and Arcweld available as well," he said, looking between Prime, Ezara, and Lyzen, knowing that Ezara and Lyzen might object, at least.

"That's fine," Lyzen said easily.

"Is there anything else before this moves to ICU?" Optimus asked.

"No," Lyzen flicked her chin up. "Any further questions can be directed to my agents after they have left their hosts."

"Good," Ratchet nodded slightly.

::Arcweld, Wheeljack - need you both in medical stat. We're going to have a case of full system shock, possible associated spark-shock. Anticipate need for full energon bath for the brain. Additional information to follow::

"How much of the shape that the body's in is because you're in it?" He asked Etri seriously. "Will there be any physical repairs, or will this be purely restoring his autonomic control and fixing any psychological scarring?"

"His body is in perfect shape and will be without me," Etri told him as he and Amoni stood to follow the CMO. "I was the one who did most of the major repairs, but that was only to get back to Autobot territory and under a medic's care. If I couldn't pass an in-depth medical inspection and repair, I wanted to know before I invested any more time and energy into this shell."

::That should be it, but be ready for just about anything,:: he concluded his transmission. ::We can control when this starts, but when it does, consider it Code Red.::

Both his assistants acknowledged him before he focused on Etri once more. "Just how much of you is in there?" he motioned to Whiplash's walking body.

"Approximately thirty pounds," he answered quietly, more than slightly aware that they were no longer in a secure location.

"I'll be taking closer to ninety," Amoni offered. "Larger frame takes more to control."

"Will either of _you_ need anything to stabilize yourselves?" He asked them both seriously, particularly 'Whiplash.'

"No," Amoni shook his head. "My current status will allow me to be stable without a host for several metacycles."

"Any issues I have will be from trying to untangle me from him," Etri responded.

Though he doubted many would recognize it, Ratchet had more than enough experience to recognize the growing fear behind that voice. "Just how tightly bound _are_ you?"

Etri almost flinched. Actually he did, rather noticeably, but only to someone accustomed to reading SpecOp body language. "For lack of a better description, spark-bound. It's just unlikely to persist for long once my spark is no longer physically linked to his."

"Wonderful ... at least you've got Arcweld there to help with it," Ratchet muttered. "I'd ask if making it an actual one would help, but knowing what can happen between the formats already I think it'll be less traumatic to make the break and fix things afterwards."

Etri was silent for the rest of the walk, deep in thought. That hadn't actually been a possibility he'd thought of. Mir like him didn't do such a thing. They couldn't ... could he?

~Etri,~ Lyzen reached out to him. ~I cannot permit that without knowing more about them. He cannot be permitted to reach me. Not with his lifespan.~

~I know, Si'Mir,~ he responded as he walked into the ICU unit with Ratchet and Amoni. He recognized the two mechs waiting for them from their files. ~It ... it would not be fair to him if nothing else. Not with my lifespan.~

"What's goin' on?" Wheeljack asked, looking between everybody.

"Grinder and Whiplash are both functioning because they're integrated with Tezita SpecOps," Ratchet explained briefly. "Grinder was found and integrated after he was KIA, but Whiplash still might be able to be saved."

"It is the metacycle of reactivation," Arcweld said thoughtfully. "We are ready.

"Ratchet," Etri caught the medic's attention as he lay down on a berth. "Would it be better for me to maintain the spark-link until he has recovered control of his body, or everything at once?"

"You can do that?" Ratchet focused on the lithe black mech.

"Yes," Etri turned his head to look at him with an unusually mild expression on. It vanished the instant the ICU doors opened to admit Jazz and Moonlit, though they remained by the door, next to Lyzen, and quiet. "I can remove myself from any given system in any order. I do not need his frame to survive."

"Then keep the link as long as you can," Arcweld said seriously, before Ratchet could respond. "Let's get him back online before we introduce the split."

"I will," Etri agreed and relaxed. "I will cooperate with your instructions."

"Why don't we have Amoni go first?" Lyzen suggested. "You can get a medical look at what's going to happen with someone there is no help for."

"Good plan," Wheeljack agreed. "Will it help to have an energon supply handy for the two of you? Know it helped Ezara a lot."

"No need," Amoni answered easily and laid down on the berth Ratchet waved him to. "My systems are fully intact."

A low humm, the powering down of a mech's systems into standby, was soon the only noticeable sound in the room.

Ratchet wasted no time in hooking up the monitors and acquiring a baseline. "All right, do what you are going to do," he instructed gruffly, every relay in him screaming at him to prevent this Autobot from permanently deactivating in front of him.

Grinder's systems went into recharge, then stasis as small pools of shimmering liquid began to form on his body. It took less than a klik for the mass to coatless on Grinder's chest into a gelatinous quicksilver lump.

There was the sound of the chest armor sliding away.

The sensors all went redline at once. Screeching and beeping for attendance that would not help. Grinder's body was already beginning to grey when the lump on his chest took the form of a slender, long-necked, long-tailed, long-legged six-limbed lizard and chirped at them.

The monitors went flatline as the last of Grinder's systems went offline, his body grey in permanent deactivation.

"It must have taken quite a bit of energy to sustain him so long," Wheeljack observed, able to view it mostly as an academic exercise. Arcweld looked slightly sick from the display, but did what was technically his job all the same, quickly confirming what the monitors were telling him.

"Their vocal capabilities are quite limited in this state," Lyzen said evenly as she walked up and extended a hand to the quicksilver lizard. It immediately crawled up her arm and disappeared into her body.

A klik later, to the utter fascination of Wheeljack, a Tezita the size of a small, lithe minibot began to form next to Lyzen from her mass.

"Less than it took for him to survive on his own," the mini-Tezita responded in a voice that could only be described as computerized. "The integration of my nanite controls to his systems and the lower energy demands for my spark make my operation of the frame more efficient than his."

"Fair enough," Wheeljack nodded. "Willing to share any of the tech specs? We might be able to improve the Gestalts if you are."

Amoni looked directly at Lyzen to provide that answer.

"Some of it," she decided. "Some is the nature of our species, some a trade secret. The rest we can discuss."

"It'll be good to have anything you can offer," Wheeljack agreed, as the final preparations were put into place for Whiplash. "Okay... as ready for this as we're going to be, I think."

"Remove yourself from his systems in order of reverse importance," Ratchet instructed as Etri settled Whiplash into the first level of standby.

"Understood," he responded calmly.

Whiplash went to full standby, then recharge, then full stasis.

One by one, systems demanded outside attention and support to continue, and the three medics attended them. All the while everyone watched the quicksilver sheen on Whiplash's body grown and gather on his chest.

When it formed a recognizable shape, it was a small, slender lizard much like Amoni's, though less than half the mass.

It chirped and clicked, it's featureless, angular head focused downward on the body it had inhabited for fifty metacycles.

"He's disconnecting from the main CPU and life support processors," Lyzen translated quietly, watching her agent intently.

"I just need half a klik," Arcweld warned them, working furiously to finish bringing the rest of the processes within button presses of being automated. "All right, now," he said when he was ready, fingers hovering above the activation switches.

The small nanite creature nodded and alarms blared for a nanoklik before Arcweld activated the remaining life support systems.

Etri chittered, hissed and keened in agitation, all but dancing on Whiplash's chest.

"Will you cut that out!" Ratchet snarled at him.

"He's trying to help," Lyzen snapped right back sharply enough to make the medic pause in his verbal abuse. "Etri's still part of Whiplash."

"What's he trying to _say_ then?" Ratchet asked her, looking back over his shoulder. "Tezitan doesn't help me at all!"

"The vocals are mostly just sound," she answered calmly. "Showing distress. The gist of it is 'follow me' and 'pay attention' ... he's trying to guide Whiplash out of the deep stasis he's been in. The actual communication is over the bond they still share. It may be distracting, but..."

A sharp, furious squawk erupted from Etri and he thumped slender forelegs against Whiplash's black chest.

"Is he awake enough to hear us, with a link-up?" Jazz suddenly asked, his tone low and audibly distressed as he watched his teacher, the person he trusted the most, fight for his life against something in his mind.

"He should be," Lyzen said, looking between medic and saboteur. "It's a good thing, if you were close to him before."

"Bonded?" Arcweld asked Jazz, pulling out an interface cable. "Link up, either way, but if there was anybody bonded to him who's still alive we should get them here."

"He never bonded," Jazz's tone was bordering on wistful before he remembered that he'd been gone from his mentor's life a very long time.

"No, it's not in him to commit to that vulnerability," Moonlit added as they walked up to Whiplash, ignoring the franticly irate quicksilver lizard on his chest, and connected themselves directly into their mentor's systems.

The stillness was unnerving, but it wasn't the first time either of them had helped drag a mech out of deep stasis.

~Whiplash?~ Jazz called out, searching the empty blackness for any spark of awareness. He felt the pull of a strong, focused and an only slightly alien mind grabbed ahold of him and rather unceremoniously dragged him deeper.

~Etri, right?~ he heard Moonlit ask from the other side of the mind.

~Who else?~ it snapped.

Jazz abruptly realized that Etri _was_ an it. Ezara was femme, knew well what a mech was, but this one was neither.

~Yes, I'm an it,~ Etri snipped at him. ~I have to become anything that I need to be. Being set on anything is too limited for my purpose. Here,~ they came to an abrupt stop in front of a brightly colored metal box.

~Of course,~ Jazz couldn't help the small smile. ~He never talked to you, did he?~

~Through the spark-link he did, not in the mind.~ the strange little lizard was larger then they were in this mindscape. ~You know what this is.~

~It's a puzzle-box. Something very specific to the last stage of training,~ Jazz explained. ~It will go better if you back out completely. Let Moonlit and I do this. Only one of his students can open it.~

They both felt Etri's reluctance, it's intense desire to stay, to help, to take care of Whiplash, but Jazz had chosen his words well. It nodded and flicked out of existence between them, leaving only Cybertronians in the mindscape.

~Has he changed how this works over the last few ganon?~ Jazz asked her as he sent over the files from when he'd finally learned to open it and began to work carefully on the box, sure that a real mistake would be a very, very bad thing for all of them.

~Nope,~ she responded quickly after examining what he'd sent and went to work on another corner. ~Same puzzle, just bigger and higher stakes.~

~Just wish he hadn't bothered, for once,~ Jazz murmured mentally, finishing the first few steps of the box. ~Or at least that he was willing to open it up and see if it's safe.~

~He _has_ been in deep stasis for fifty metacycles,~ she pointed out, working on the puzzle with a speed and familiarity that Jazz could no longer muster. ~From what the little one said he went into this never expecting to come out.~

~I know,~ Jazz admitted. ~It just makes trying to keep him from being right that much harder. I think I've almost got it - let me know when you're ready for the final steps. I remember we have to do them at the same time.~

~Ready when you are,~ she responded, sending a synchronizing link to him so they could work in perfect unison.

~Ready,~ Jazz replied and moved as she did.

The complex box shimmered, synched to what was inside, and vanished to reveal the very groggy core of consciousness that Whiplash had held back from the merging.

"Hay teach," Jazz called out, intimately aware of what his mentor's mind was capable of when cornered or startled. "Jazz-man's reporting."

~'Lash,~ Moonlit called a little more intimately though no less cautiously. ~It's Moonlit and Jazz. That lizard's vacating. Time to come back.~

"Lizard?" the bubble of consciousness began to stir and form the familiar mind-presence.

"Etri, the Tezita SpecOp that's been running your body for the last few metacycles," Jazz said while carefully leaving out any suggestion that the arrangement was agreed to.

There was a low, querying chirp from far away. Whiplash stiffened instantly as he reached out to synch up with systems long abandoned, scrambling to take back what was his by right before he lost it again.

"Chill, man," Jazz tried to sound soothing. "It's CO's here, ordered 'im to abandon ship. It's all yours. Ratchet's got your body on life support until you're all synced and sorted out."

~All true,~ Moonlit backed him up. ~It'll be good to have you back,~ she held back the intense guilt she felt for not realizing he'd ever been gone.

~It ... was designed that way,~ Whiplash turned his attention to his SIC briefly before looking towards Jazz. "How much did it tell you?"

"The basics, I 'spect," he tried to put all his reassuring manner into it. "Ya ain't in trouble."

That got Whiplash's full attention. "How in the _Pit_ could I not be?"

Jazz looked a little uncomfortable before he answered. "Ah'm owned more'n ah few favors, ya know? So are you. Side's, we're allied with'm now, and it's CO is one scary femme. Ah don't think even Prime wants to piss'r off, and given how attached that little lizard is ta ya, punishin ya would do just that."

Whiplash stilled and looked at his prize student for a long moment. "You haven't babbled like that in a long time," he observed quietly. "I know what I did was treason at the time, even if it isn't now."

Moonlit sighed, catching his attention within the space that was slowly becoming a central hub of activity again. ~It's part of the deal, I expect. The Lydrom Head of Intelligence, Emirc Lyzen Coldwind, agreed to turn over her Autobot agents as a show of good faith in the alliance. While I may not have all the details, the same agreement that protected her agents from being prosecuted as spies protects you from the being labeled a traitor.~

"That I can understand," Whiplash said evenly. "I am awake and though it may take me a few orn, I will recover my body. Please leave and tell Ratchet."

"Yes Lash," Moonlit smiled and disconnected from the mindscape.

Whiplash focused on Jazz once more. "It doesn't explain your babbling youngling."

Jazz could only sigh. "It's been'a Pit of time, since the Tezita Toe'Emirc first arrived. It hasn't been a joor since ah first learned. I..."

"Humiliated you couldn't detect it, furious I would do such a thing, terrified of what they can do and likely already have done," he drifted over to Jazz and drew to touch foreheads gently. "I know. I trained you well. I also know your faults better than any other. I will recover. When I do, we will work out just how much I betrayed you, and what you will do about it."

Jazz looked at him and stepped back to break the contact.

"All right," he finally acquiesced before disconnecting himself only a moment after Moonlit did. She was already talking, and he belatedly realized she was passing on the message from Whiplash. For some reason the featureless quicksilver lizard was what stole his attention. It was curled up, all but a dome of nanites instead of a creature, and seemed to be content to rest over Whiplash's spark chamber.

"Etri's not going to do anything like that again, right?" Jazz asked Lyzen. "Whiplash sounds like he's got some issues he's going to have to work out after he's recovered a bit, but I think he'll be all right with time."

"You have no idea how many issues the two of them will have," Lyzen made a resigned, disgruntled sound. "As for 'doing that' again, yes, they will. Infiltrators are not designed to live on their own for very long. They will not be in Autobots, however."

"I meant with a living subject - somebody who still has a claim to their own body," Jazz explained. "It sounds like it's not something you encourage."

"Ah, no. That is very much against regulations," she said firmly, a scowl crossing her features as her gaze flicked to Etri for a moment. "Though as Intel, I am sure you understand how little that can mean when you are so far behind enemy lines. You will see exactly why I disapprove of merging with the living so much. Whiplash is not the only one who will suffer and be out of action for too long."

"He may recover faster than you expect," Jazz offered. "Though it'll be a long time before he's convinced he can trust himself again. Anybody else, and that would be the least of our worries," he admitted.

"I hope you are correct," Lyzen said softly with a glance towards the recharging pair. "The difficult part has not been done yet. They are still linked in spark, and I doubt Etri has completely backed out of the body. It's likely to have enough connection to catch it if things go wrong."

"He doesn't _need_ to," Ratchet interrupted gruffly. "We have things well under control."

"I know," Lyzen said with a nod. "Let it be. It's doing no harm."

"Do NOT tell me what to do in my own bay!" Ratchet growled at her, his hand ready to grab a wrench from subspace to throw at her.

As desperately as Jazz wanted to warn Ratchet he was getting into dangerous territory, that these Tezita did not have the same fear of him that Autobots did, he knew it would only serve to get _him_ hurt.

Lyzen looked down at Ratchet, utterly unimpressed by the threat.

"And what happens when Whiplash realizes that and decides he wants him out, entirely, right then?" Jazz asked her with a frown when Ratchet turned back to his patient with a huff. "He's very much not happy with things right now."

"I have no doubt of that," Lyzen focused back on him. "Etri will leave. I will see to it," she cast a glance at the resting pair. "I can not blame it for wanting to remain as long as it can."

"As long as it's not causing any trouble, we might as well leave it there," Jazz offered. "If he's interfering with your work, let us know. For now, I think there are other things we need to deal with," he offered to Lyzen.

With a final glance at Whiplash and Etri, she nodded and turned to leave with him and Moonlit.

"A distraction would be welcome," she admitted as they walked. "It has not been nearly long enough since this happened last."


	6. Breaking Bonds

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_:  
_Rating_:  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary_

* * *

**Wanderer's Home arc 3 pt 06: Breaking Bonds**

* * *

Whiplash drifted in low-level recharge, mostly lucid but without any care to actually think. Reclaiming his body was going well. His own relays and Ratchet both confirmed that. With such a top-notch medic involved and Etri keeping an eye on things as well, he felt no need to hurry.

Instead he allowed the reclamation to proceed at leisurely pace while he focused on events since his capture during the fourth assassination attempt on Shockwave. It had been a mission he'd vehemently defended assigning to himself by pointing out that if anyone on Cybertron could do it given the previous failures, he was it and he had a perfectly capable SIC to take over until he returned, no matter how long that was.

It was arrogant, he could admit now, to think that he could do what three of his best assassins, two of them teams, could not.

That arrogance got him captured and produced two of the longest metacycles of his entire life. At first he focused on escape. Etri, in the form of metal spider that spoke complements and offers of escape ... for a price ... an incredible price ... came into his life early in that phase.

He refused, of course. He'd gotten himself out of worse messes, or so he told himself.

Time wore on and Etri brought him enough energon to stay on-line, tidbits of news of the outside, occasional bits of news from the inside, warnings of when his tormentors were coming, even repairs. Never a lot, but enough that he'd survive the orn and what came with it. Every contact came with little gifts of useful intel, physical assistance and continued offers of escape in exchange for use of his body for a vorn and assurances that Etri would do his job for the Autobots as well as he did, if not better. Sometimes it'd even answer questions about itself or where it came from or what it was doing there.

It had been nearly two metacycles when the offer changed. The orn he'd accepted that he wasn't going to get out, wasn't going to escape or be rescued. Etri came and told him of an attack on an Autobot base outside Praxus and gave him a small portion of energon. It had apologized it couldn't offer more.

Whiplash remembered smiling weakly at the spider about the size of his hand, stroking it gently to reassure it, and thanked Etri for all it had done.

He remembered that he wasn't afraid of what was to come in the next few days.

What came next was a break in their well-established ritual. Etri made its offer again, but it was a very different offer. It was an offer for far more dire situation. It was an offer to keep his secrets safe beyond his permanent deactivation. To deny Shockwave the ability to mine his memory banks and processors when his spark was extinguished. The price was the same though; the use of his body, name and rank in the Autobot cause for one vorn.

Sixteen orn later, his body so broken they hadn't even bothered to throw him back in the cell to die, he tried to whisper agreement to the deal as his final consciousness faded. Only static had come out of his shattered vocalizer.

* * *

Etri stirred from his rest when he felt Whiplash's integration with his shell brush up against the fine tendrils he maintained in the body to ensure that nothing went wrong during the hand-off. With a quick check to ensure that all was well he disengaged each connection after drawing Whiplash's attention to it until all that was left was the link he could not break so easily.

~The body is completely yours again,~ Etri said after a nudge to make sure it had Whiplash's attention.

~How about everything else?~ he asked it. ~And how much damage is this going to end up doing to you?~

~I haven't broken the bond yet,~ it sounded downright guilty. ~Your best chance would be when you're fully recovered. For me...~ it paused with a twinge of surprise at the question. ~My damage will be social. Preserving your spark is very much against regulations. She is angry with me.~

~I'm not surprised,~ Whiplash admitted. ~Have you held anything back from my databanks?~

~No,~ it answered firmly. ~I did not falsify any of it either. I promised to do my best for the Autobot cause and I have. I am afraid that Jazz and Moonlit did not take the revelation of my presence well. I am concerned about Ultra Magnus. He seemed to accept, but he is a strong military commander. I cannot believe he will brush it off so easily.~ Etri sounded completely guilty now. ~I really wanted to do this quietly, so they never knew. I will face sanctions for saving you, but you ... I am sorry.~

~I was told I wouldn't end up being decommissioned for this - what's on your mind instead of that?~ Whiplash asked it. He could feel, though the bond and the direct processor connection, that Etri was squirming and something as close to utterly terrified as it was capable of.

~I ... do not wish to break our bond,~ it finally managed to stammer. ~I ... _like_ you. The ... the way Mother likes her mate.~ 'Mother' came with a mental image that matched up to Si'Mir Lyzen Kikn'nah.

~How many other times has this happened?~ Whiplash asked, trying to keep his own emotions firmly locked away privately. This could go wrong in _so_ many ways he didn't even want to contemplate it.

~To me, never,~ Etri murmured. ~In Intel records ... maybe a handful of times, all of them generations ago.~

~How many times with a group that ended up being allies with you?~ Whiplash asked him, trying to get a feel for the consequences that would result. Much as he didn't want to care what happened, he couldn't really help but do so. After all, Etri had saved his life, apparently at significant risk to himself, when he had no need to.

~Always,~ Etri mentally nuzzled him when it wasn't rejected outright after admitting it's feelings. ~You're the first alien it's been tried with that I know about. All the others were Tezita. Tezita are always allies when the current war is over,~ he tried to explain with a significant data packet of Lydrom's political quirks focused on how they deferred from Cybertron and the Autobots.

~Your wars seem to mean less than ours do,~ Whiplash responded first, not quite able to keep it under wraps at that level once he'd finished the download. ~Sorry,~ he apologized. ~What's happened in the past, when this sort of thing happened?~

~I've noticed,~ Etri murmured reassuringly and nuzzled him again. ~Those who broke the bond were in pain, unable to infiltrate, for many metacycles. The one who didn't eventually became one with it's other half.~

~I meant from a disciplinary angle. So you won't be cut off for this?~ Whiplash asked it. ~What do you mean by 'became one with'? Sounds like more than just a spark-bond.~

~Discipline is just going to be listening to Mother rant and snarl at me about it until she's worked her irritation out,~ a fond feeling came over the contact. ~The real punishment is the broken bond and having to stay off duty for so long while I recover. Zetiri, the one who kept it's bond, eventually lost all self-awareness and was absorbed completely by it's mate. It's from the nature of an Infiltrator. We don't have a very strong sense of self, at least not in the way you think of it. It interferes with becoming someone else completely enough to pass this level of scrutiny.~

~I understand that,~ Whiplash agreed. ~I can't let the bond continue though. It's just... not possible. I can't let anybody that close. But thank you, for everything you did.~

He felt a brief crushing disappointment, then rejection, then acceptance flash by through the contact and marveled at how fast Etri processed the emotions. There was a moment where he felt Etri begin to form an argument, only to let it die unvoiced.

~Then when Ratchet agrees you're ready, I will break it,~ Etri said with a muted kind of acceptance.

~I'm sorry, Etri,~ Whiplash told it. ~But it's not something I can let myself do. With anybody,~ he offered, hoping that would soften the blow a little at least.

~It's okay," it reassured him. ~Mother wasn't likely to allow a bond to stand anyway. For much the same reason,~ Etri said with a mixture of resignation, acceptance and regret. ~I think Ratchet has noticed you're fully on-line.~

~I'm sure he has,~ Whiplash agreed. He began to sit up on his berth, only to freeze at a startled and indignant squawk coming from vicinity of his chest and the sensation of many small needles driving into his armor there. ~Sorry,~ he murmured to Etri as the lizard-like form scurried up his body to his shoulder while Ratchet snorted in amusement. "Just sorting a few things out before I had to deal with the rest of the world," he told Ratchet.

"I'm sure," the CMO nodded. "Feel ready to break the final connection between you two?"

"Is there any way to minimize the shock, to both of us?" Whiplash asked as the nanite lizard rubbed against his sensory horn. "Etri in particular. I think it'll have more trouble with it than I will."

"Yes, though it will put you under for at least a decaorn," Ratchet focused on the black saboteur. "It won't technically make it any easier, but you won't be aware for the worst of it. As for that one," he shoved a finger at the crooning infiltrator. "The Si'Mir says she knows how to take care of it. She'll be here when it happens."

"All right," Whiplash nodded slightly. "Arcweld's back alive, right? Is there anything he can do to help with it?"

"Yes. He'll be here too, to help seal the break," Ratchet said gently, his hand on the op's shoulder. "Most of what Arcweld is good at is helping you learn how to deal with the emptiness this will leave. Even though it's not nearly as strong as a true spark-bond, it won't leave you unaffected, I'm afraid. They should both be here soon. Do you want to remain conscious? I don't advise it, but I won't stop you."

"I'll stay up for it," Whiplash decided. "I should know what it's like. I've seen it happen too often."

"You're masochists, the lot of you," Ratchet scowled but turned away to walk into the main med bay. "Try and relax. Lyzen and Arcweld are on their way."

~You're not a masochist,~ Etri crooned gently along a very polite touch-contact. ~Just practical in a painful profession.~

~I know - I'm not a masochist any more than any medic has to be,~ Whiplash agreed, settling back to wait. ~And he knows it. He's just the grouchy type.~

He turned his head to look at the door when it opened again to admit Ratchet, First Aid, Arcweld and Lyzen.

"Since you actually know how to do this," Ratchet pinned Lyzen with a glare that she didn't seem bothered by. "I expect you to talk us through"

"Understood," she inclined her head to him and walked up to the berth to fix Whiplash with a bemused, somewhat respectful expression. "You must be something quite special," her voice was soft, almost tender as she set her hand on his shoulder. "It has been five generations since an infiltrator broke this reg, and never has one worked so long to gain a host's consent," said continued, power ghosting across his systems, lulling him with a comfortable warmth he didn't fight.

Etri gave one last encouraging, affectionate click and pulse of emotional support before the connection went mute. It climbed up Lyzen's arm and disappeared into her body.

"The process is as simple as it is traumatic," she continued for the benefit of the medics more than the mech that was relaxed enough he barely heard her. "I find the connection and strangle it out of existence. The pain will become difficult to manage at the half way point. At three-quarters it becomes intense, rather like a spike going threw the spark. That is usually where any intention of cooperating looses out to self-preservation instincts. No matter the situation or intentions, everyone fights in the last moments."

"Is there any actual danger involved, or only the pain?" Ratchet asked her seriously.

"There is always a danger when manipulating a spark," she focused on him even as she continued to sooth nervousness Whiplash didn't even realize was there. "To date, there has never been a fatality or permanent injury from this procedure. Even so, it is possible for one or both to die or be so traumatized they never function correctly again. The same risks that exist when a full bond is broken by death."

"I'm just wondering if we should have the equipment ready to deal with a full spark-arrest," he explained, glancing at Arcweld for his opinion.

"While it would not hurt to be over-prepared, he is strong in spark and processor and is willing," she glanced down at Whiplash, who was in the lucid but absent state just before going into recharge. "I would deem it unnecessary. He should have died the orn he agreed to Etri's offer. He recovered from that. This will be less traumatic in the short run."

"It's always advisable," Arcweld spoke up. "Though even with a full bond between two Cybertronians, it is rare for it to be necessary if the survivor _wants_ to survive."

"I'll get them set up," First Aid nodded slightly before turning to go to work. "You guys work on getting him to that point."

Lyzen flicked her chin fractionally in acknowledgement and turned her focus completely inward as she began to close off the bond between her agent and the Cybertronian. She focused on calming and protecting both participants from the pain and frantic danger signals the closing of the bond caused, though she knew there would soon be little she could do other than control them and work as quickly as possible.

Whiplash was twitching but containing the whimpers of pain when she had it halfway closed. Inside her, Etri's spark lurched and cried out, screaming against the infiltrator's will for Whiplash to resist this.

She sent a calming, supportive pulse of energy to her agent, but in the end she knew she could control it. It was no danger, and was not in any danger, despite it's screams of protest.

The Cybertronian could be if he fought hard enough. His spark pulsed in response to Etri's pleas and began to fight her efforts.

With as much energy as she could spare she first cut off Etri's communication as best she could, sent reassuring calmness across Whiplash's processors as she worked into his motor control center and turned it off, locking him in place with a gentle, wordless apology.

Then all attention went to closing the spark connection now that the fight was on.

Etri thrashed and screamed inside her. Whiplash howled in agony and lashed out blindly with his mind when he found his body unresponsive.

Lyzen forced her will on both of them, forced it upon their very sparks, choking the connection that should have never been until she felt it snap.

::Arcweld. Yours.:: she managed to transmit as she staggered back, physically drained and mentally on edge from the agony of her agent curled inside her chest. She barely felt the impact when she backed right into an empty berth even as her hands reached back to try and grab it.

"I'll need to see your agent once I'm done here," he said, moving to Whiplash, pressing his hands on the mech's shoulders, carefully offering some sense of connection and belonging, without presenting himself for a full bond. Nothing could end the painful parts of it - it was like trying to remove half an engine without the other half having to suffer for it - but he knew how to make the pain more manageable.

Whiplash latched onto him, mentally and physically, more than willing to take the comfort. The half-detected, clinical wonder at the agony triggered uneasy warnings in Arcweld's processors, but that was why the Intel Op wanted to be conscious. He _wanted_ to understand this pain, experience and catalog it for his own use.

~I ... think I have it now,~ Whiplash offered to allow the medic to leave. "Moonlit and Jazz are still on base, yes?" he asked out loud as he regained control of his faculties one by one against the searing, blinding pain.

"Yes," Arcweld nodded. "I recommend spending some time with them, when you can, but be careful about anything intimate."

"Understood," Whiplash said and made a first, abortive, attempt to sit up. "Maybe not right now," he murmured in acceptance of the weakness of his limbs from the pain still coursing through every relay in his body from his spark outward. "That was only a partial bond?" he murmured with a new level of respect for the bondmates who managed to keep going. "How long will the pain last?"

"A few orn before the physical pain starts to become less disorienting. It could be anywhere from decaorn to a vorn or so before the rest of it seems to have worn off, though it never goes away entirely," Arcweld explained. "With this type of bond, it's very hard to tell exactly what will happen."

Whiplash nodded slightly, his attention drawn to Ratchet's furious snarling being directed at someone across the room.

"I didn't realize it would be this draining," the Si'Mir told him, her body less than distinct in details as she braced against an empty berth. "It wasn't 'fore. Just ... 'Zara. Surreem."

"It will be easier to do if you tell us what that is," Ratchet said, sending out the comm signal and message.

"Force field berth," she tried to explain even as Ezara responded that she was on her way with the surreem. "Takes energy to hold my form. Real rest ... is a puddle."

"All right - take this all the same," he said, grabbing an emergency ration of energon. "It should help you hold together."

Lyzen made no objection and shifted her balance to free a hand to take the cube. Without any thought, she poured it into her body just below her throat, and made an appreciative sound as the trembling lessened considerably.

"Whiplash?" she shifted her focus to the reason for all this.

"I'll make it," he promised. "Whole new kind of pain from the pit, but I'll manage."

"Good," she let her focus fall back to herself and the two agents inside her, sharing her energy and her processors.

The doors slid open and Ezara skidded to a stop, looking nothing like the world military leader and everything like worried youngling tending to her creator. She took on look around and smiled happily before a small metal box was set on the floor and activated. It unfolded into an open-top contain with thin metal sides large enough for Ratchet to lay in comfortably.

"Thank you," Lyzen smiled at Ezara and stepped into the container before letting go. Her body dissolved within nanokliks, melting into a shimmering pool of nanites that splashed a bit on impact before settling down.

"From the look of her, she'll probably be out for a couple orn if she can," Ezara told Ratchet quietly as she formed a spider-like creature the size of her hand from her body and set it on the berth above the surreem. "It will watch them, alert me if something happens. If you pour an energon cube in there a couple times a day she'll be in a better mood when she does pull herself together." Her expression softened a bit. "She'll have one pit of a processor ache at best. She's probably catching most of what Etri's feeling right now."

"Similar to what we had to do when you got here first?" Ratchet guessed. "And understood. What are the odds that he didn't actually make it in the end? If it took this much out of her, I don't know how well he held up."

"Much less dramatic," she assured him. "She just needs rest. The energon'll just make sure she's not all snarly from hunger when she does come around."

Ezara knelt down by the pool of nanites, then stuck her hand in, slowly fishing around for a bit until she found what she was looking for.

"It's howling bloody murder about the pain and leaving Whiplash, but it seems intact enough," she said as she stood up. "Infiltrators may be small, but they're tough, determined little creatures."

"Etri is _not_ a _creature_," Whiplash suddenly hissed, though how much of his tone was from pain and how much was anger was anyone's guess.

"It is in the same context I am," Ezara told him evenly. "That's not an insult."

"Oh," he murmured and settled down again, his entire sensor-net still on fire and being eaten away by dripping acid while his spark continued to cry out for the connection it had lost.

"Good," Ratchet nodded slightly. "I'll keep an eye on her; can you go see if Jazz is up to anything, get him down here if he isn't?"

"Moonlit too?" Ezara asked before turning for her errand.

"Yes," Whiplash said, his voice tight.

"I'll send them both," Ezara promised with a sympathetic look for the agent.


	7. The White and Red

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Starscream/Skyfire  
_Rating_: NC-17 for M/M  
_Codes_: Slash  
_Summary_

* * *

**Wanderer's Home arc 3 pt 07: The White and Red**

* * *

Skyfire did his best to hurry to the Ark on his return from a delivery run to Cybertron. He didn't redline his engines; that would send him to medbay instead of his quarters. He was sure that was where Starscream was, and something had his bonded's internals in a knot. Given what was on Starscream's processors before he'd left for Cybertron, Skyfire had a pretty good idea of what that something was.

Starscream had read what he had become.

~Star,~ he broadcast, trying to reach him across the distance, get his attention before he could do anything rash. ~I'll be there as soon as I can. Can you read me?~

~I'll be okay,~ the response was a moment in coming, and Skyfire had few doubts that Starscream hadn't really registered his words, only that the contact had been attempted and it was concerned. ~How could I do these things?~ a world of mind-numbing horror came with the words.

~You didn't,~ Skyfire told him firmly as he transformed and landed outside the Ark entrance. ~You weren't yourself, weren't _sane_. It's why I had to bring you back in, whatever it took.~

~I can see I wasn't sane,~ Starscream consented. ~Still ... to be that far gone, and still recover. How did they do it?~

~They removed the Forge's reprogramming, and set your processors and memory banks back to right after I disappeared,~ Skyfire explained as he hurriedly made his way to the quarters they shared. ~Undid the spark shock and everything else.~

~Still, that I had the potential to be that ... that _monster_...~ his thoughts drifted to a wordless sick feeling.

~Only with warped reprogramming that could've turned Primus sick,~ Skyfire told him firmly as he reached the door and tapped in his code to open it. He was more than slightly relieved when he took in the simple space that had been _theirs_ for almost three decaorns. Starscream was sitting on their berth, his knees tucked to his chest and a datapad in one hand.

"You made good time," Starscream tried his best to smile, but the warmth, relief and affection that rushed across the bond at the sight of his partner did most of the welcoming. "I hope you didn't redline your engines."

"If I had, I wouldn't be here," Skyfire smiled slightly, closing the door and taking the datapad from him as he sat down on the berth. "That wasn't you, Star."

Starscream sighed deeply through his vents and curled forward to lean against his side. "It's who everyone else knows as Starscream. I'm starting to think a new vocalizer, paintjob and name aren't a bad idea. Everyone decent hates Starscream, and the rest," he shuddered, "I'd rather not draw the attention of."

"It might not be the worst idea... though you sound a lot different, just in how you talk," Skyfire offered, wrapping an arm around him, pressing against his side. "The rest of it might help them see you as somebody else, but it might make it look like you're trying to hide too."

"Given who 'Starscream' is to the universe, I'm not sure that'd be wrong," he murmured, resting his helm against Skyfire's warmth. "It's not like anything I had before has survived. I'd be starting over no matter what we do. The institutes are all gone, most of the records, all but a handful of colleagues. I don't loose much by way of scientific credibility at this point ... but I've always been Starscream, and I really like the matching paintjobs we have."

"We can get new paintjobs," Skyfire offered. ~Come on, you don't need to be so worried about all this right now,~ he added across their bond, trying to draw Starscream's mind into a different place, offering him affection and a chance to stop worrying about everything that had happened.

~Mmm, you always were good at distracting me,~ he all but purred as he reached up to draw Skyfire's head down for a searing, hungry kiss.

~I do my best,~ he smiled, pressing against him, his mind at the outer edge's of Starscream's, waiting for permission to join him. It came with a tug from the Seeker's mind even as Starscream pushed against his chest to get him to lie down in their berth.

~You always do,~ Starscream focused inward to draw Skyfire into a long, lingering embrace in their minds. ~Someone taught you a new trick,~ he couldn't help his surprise when physical bodies, human, or nearly so, formed around them.

"Ezara's taste in pleasure - if you'd rather stick to normal, that's fine, but I thought this would distract you better," Sky offered, kissing him in their mindscape, running his hands along his mate's body.

He shivered at the touch, drawing in a sharp breath at the pleasure of it. "I'll forgive her audacity, for teaching you this," he turned his focus to exploring his mate's tall, well-muscled body, so different from his real one, but noticeably similar as well.

"It's how I helped convince her you were worth saving," Skyfire offered, shivering a bit at Starscream's touch. "You want to take your time, or save that for later?"

He hummed thoughtfully, his hands sliding down Skyfire's sides, his hips, then around to cup his slightly rounded aft. "Exploring has always been the greatest pleasure," he smiled slyly and placed a kiss just below Skyfire's sternum.

"Mmm ... just save some of the pleasure for me," Skyfire told him, running his hands up his muscular back. "Have to get to know your body like this too, after all," he pointed out, massaging the back of his neck.

Starscream moaned and arched into the contact, tilting his head forward to give his mate better access. Despite the tremors that passed through him, he was relaxing as well.

"That's better, isn't it?" Skyfire smiled as he formed a soft, luxurious bed in the space. "Turn around, let me help you relax," he crooned as he guided Starscream to lay face down. He worked powerful hands along his mate's back and the tight muscles that were there, corresponding to the tension and frustration at what he'd read before.

The low, affirmative moan of pleasure was all Starscream managed to respond with as his body seemed to melt under the care but it was more than enough to send a thrill of pleasure through Skyfire. After more than a year either on the opposing battle line or watching as Starscream was literally dissected and reassembled, to hear such sounds out of him was intensely pleasurable.

"That's right," Skyfire crooned, kissing the back of his neck. "Just relax and let me make you feel good." He licked along the line of Starscream's muscular back lightly, running a hand down to squeeze his aft lightly.

"You're too good at this," he groaned as entirely different muscles tensed and relaxed. "To me," he became aware of the pleasure of the object he was laying on, the soft slide of fabric against smooth, very sensitive skin. Then Skyfire's kissing licks stole all his attention as they worked along either side of his spine where his wings would attach in life.

A low chuckle came from above him and there was a shift around him he couldn't place, then a kiss was placed just above and out from his hip to what could only be his wings.

"Oh yes!" Starscream couldn't hold back as he arched his back upwards into that deliciously familiar contact.

"You like that, don't you?" Skyfire grinned. "Do you remember much about the flyers from this world?" He asked him, running his fingers along the edges of the wings he'd given him.

"No," he closed his eyes and focused on the incredible sensation rushing around his body. "Just what I've had time to read. What kind?"

"The natural ones - was wondering if you wanted to see what it was like, flying like that. Without needing thrusters or grav-control to keep it up," he explained, focusing for a moment before he curled a long, feathered wing around for Starscream to inspect.

He reached a hand out, stroking the feathers gingerly, remembering how delicate the structures were to the thick metal fingers of his natural body. Eventually he looked up, over his shoulder at his humanized mate with broad white wings. The back of his mind told him that they were insufficient to keep such a heavy, non-aerodynamic body in the air, even at a glide, but most of him was fascinated by the prospect.

"I think I would enjoy that a great deal," Starscream rumbled and turned over so he was facing his mate to pull him down for a long, passionate kiss. He ran his hands along the strong, well-muscled frame and caught a hint of something in the back of Skyfire's awareness. With a mischievous smile he brought his hands in when he reached Skyfire's hips and cupped the small fleshy kibble below a bit of curly blond hair.

"Mmm ... the interesting parts," Skyfire groaned slightly. "Want me to show you how to use them?" He asked with a half-grin.

"Anything that makes you sound like that is worth learning," he flattened his hand a bit to caress the length of the largest bit of exquisitely soft, dry skin.

"Then let me do it to you," Skyfire murmured, kissing his way down Starscream's chest, fondling his balls lightly as his lips came closer. A soft gasp of pleasure greeted the touch and Starscream shifted his hands to mimic what Skyfire was doing until he could no longer reach.

"As sensitive as wings," Starscream unconsciously lifted his hips and pressed into the touch, wanting more of it, and grabbed for Skyfire's shoulders in an effort to ground himself.

"And that's just the start," Skyfire rumbled, licking his half-hard shaft, mimicking what he remembered Ezara doing to him that one night.

Starscream let out a strangled cry of shocked ecstasy, his hips bucking upwards and his fingers tightening against the solid muscle of Skyfire's shoulders.

"Primus!" he breathed when Skyfire reached the bulbous tip and ran his tongue around the spongy area. His eyes squeezed shut for a moment before he forced them to open so he could watch what his lover was doing that felt so exquisite. "No wonder the humans are so obsessed with this."

"See?" Skyfire grinned up at him. "All sorts of options," he said, before taking him into his mouth, still fondling his balls as he began to pleasure his trembling, gasping mate.

~Not long,~ Starscream warned him with a wash of raw, mind-bending pleasure as his hips jerked upward. "Sky!" he choked out suddenly when every muscle in his body tightened and a pulse of sweet, slightly tangy jell exploded into Skyfire's mouth.

That was new, though Skyfire knew what it was - he just hadn't been on the receiving end before.

"Mmm... so, experiment successful?" He asked, standing and kissing Starscream deeply as he gasped and trembled in the aftershocks of a hard, fast overload.

"Primus," he breathed before dragging Skyfire down for another kiss, tasting what he assumed was himself in his mate's mouth. He didn't even think about it before deciding he liked the flavor. "Yes," he murmured into another kiss as he found enough coordination to stroke Skyfire's back and along the feathered wings. "Did she teach you anything else?" he asked with a sultry rumble, flickers of actual mating animals on the edge of his thoughts.

"A few things, though most of them take a little more adjusting unless you feel like being female for a while," Skyfire teased him, kissing his chin lightly. "Lay down on your back."

Starscream complied, stretching out languidly as he would in his real body when he wanted to entice his mate. "We can try femme variants later," he promised, his bright white eye taking in his lover's form. "Teach me about this one."

"Just let me know if anything's uncomfortable," Skyfire told him, running his fingers down Starscream's chest, cupping his balls, then fingering his ass lightly, his eyes not leaving his mate's. "I've missed you so much," he whispered, kissing him gently as Starscream's arms would around his neck.

"I can feel it," Starscream whispered, shifting his legs and hips to give his mate easier access to the single opening and relaxed his body. "You could never hurt me," he promised, knowing it was the truth in his very spark.

"Never on purpose," Sky agreed, slipping a finger up into him carefully, slowly, stretching him out and judging his reactions to the sensation. True, this was a mindscape and he could control every detail, but the scientist in him and knowledge of the scientist his bonded was meant a near-instinctive drive to be realistic whenever possible.

True to form, Starscream took anything he did as a best-case and moaned wantonly in pleasure, unabashed in displaying his desire to indulge in anything Skyfire came up with.

The taller male slid up between his legs, kissing him tenderly as he pressed his shaft up against the pucker of his ass. "You've got no idea how hard it was to find information on this," he murmured, pressing into him slowly.

The rush of pleasure, both sides of it since Starscream insisted on sharing how slagging _good_ it felt, of being filled and the tight, slick heat around his penis nearly sent him into overload before he'd even managed to hilt inside Starscream the first time.

"You've always been an exceptional researcher," Starscream groaned, the pleasure, affection, adoration and no small amount of awe all flooding Skyfire from him.

"You're worth it," Skyfire murmured, twining his fingers with Starscream's, opening himself up fully as he began to thrust. Within the first sparkbeat there was no longer a 'me' and 'him' on either side, only a united 'us' that was in near-mindless ecstasy of the duel sensations and the raw, still-fresh need to reaffirm their bond and the love and devotion it was founded on.

Starscream let go of the final bit of terror of being lost, alone, without Skyfire even for the few joors or orns he remembered. Only now mattered, and now was perfect in exquisite pleasure.


	8. Intel's Dance

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Jazz/Whiplash/Moonlit  
_Rating_: PG-13  
_Codes_: Slash, Het  
_Summary_

* * *

**Wanderer's Home arc 3 pt 08: Intel's Dance**

* * *

Whiplash came to awareness slowly, a small part of his processor noting the unusual behavior and trying to place the cause from the short list that didn't include significant damage or sedatives; two things his boot-up systems check had informed him were not affecting him.

"Hay babe," a throaty, seductive and oh-so-familiar rumble came from the pleasant warmth on one side of his gradually on-lining body.

"Jazz," his voice sounded staticky, raw ... Ratchet had likely sedated him, but he'd recharged long after it had worn off. That other warmth was no doubt Moonlit, though it could be Mirage is she'd returned to Cybertron already.

Why would his vocalizer be that damaged? He couldn't remember screaming, much less for any length of time. If he hadn't during the actual breaking of the bond, why would he later?

"Yeah it's me, babe," Jazz's voice was soothing to audio receptors that seemed to be as damaged as his vocalizer. "Ya did what _we_ all knew ya'd do. Ya held it tagether until the mission was over and all were safe."

"And you were alone," Moonlit added, her tone less approving.

"But yur with kin now," Jazz continued, his touch along Whiplash's arms and helm light, gentle, and completely platonic for once. "Just Moon and me, in mah quarters. Ya know it's safe ta talk about anything here."

"As safe as anywhere," Whiplash murmured, his vocalizer still objecting to use with random bursts of static.

"Ya don't have to talk out loud if ya don't want to," Jazz offered. "Just relax."

Whiplash nodded slightly and buried his face against Jazz's shoulder as he began to tremble against his own will. The pain was down to an ache in his spark, but the loneliness was suddenly crushing and he clutched at Jazz, the body facing his, with frantic strength.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Jazz crooned, rubbing his side while Moonlit mirrored his actions, pressing against Whiplash's back. ~You're not really alone, I promise.~"

~I know,~ he responded before he thought about it. ~How long?~

~You've been out for two days,~ Moonlit responded while Jazz focused on providing physical and emotional support. ~Ultra Magnus has returned Cybertron. I have a few days until the next energon run, then I need to return.~

~Ratchet and Arcweld are pulling medical rank,~ Jazz picked up. ~You're staying on the Ark until they feel you're ready to return to duty.~

~Then Prime, Ultra Magnus, you and Moonlit will decide my fate,~ he murmured, unable to hide all the nervousness he had at that prospect.

~Magnus is still pretty pissed, mostly that no one noticed,~ Moonlit admitted to him. ~Prime is focused on the fact that he agreed no repercussions would come of what happened.~

~We just intend to see you recover and back in action,~ Jazz embraced him tightly, physically and mentally, and opened himself up to show his mentor just how determined he was.

Whiplash didn't respond with any coherent words, or even a thought either of his students could pick up, but the hard pull he made to drag Jazz much deeper into his mind was crystal clear.

Jazz followed, careful to make sure it was only searching for company. This was deeper than they usually went, but that was something Arcweld had told them was likely. It was a pale substitute for the missing bond, though it was deeply intimate for an unbonded pair.

~'Lash, we can't blame ya for tryin' to make it out alive,~ he pointed out gently, soothing his mentor more with his energy than the words. It took effort to not freak out a little at how clingy Whiplash was, even knowing he was surviving a broken bond.

~You're the one who taught us that there's nothing wrong with anything you have to do to survive another day,~ Moonlit added firmly. ~We all know how many times we've each committed treason in the name of survival, and as you said so many times, the Autobots still come out ahead.~

~I know,~ Whiplash murmured, snuggling into Jazz's mind and welcoming Moonlit's embrace. ~I never imagined it could hurt this much. I was barely aware of it most of the time.~

~Etri? It sounds like that's SOP for those guys. There was one in the Decepticon base too... it wouldn't have changed anything, if you hadn't agreed,~ Jazz offered again, keeping any trace of judgment out of what he exposed to his mentor... though to be honest, there wasn't much there. Everybody was more ticked off at those who'd been around the situation than those who'd been in it.

~It would have changed one thing,~ Whiplash corrected him quietly, only mildly conflicted about the fact. ~It would have waited a few more breems and there would have been no bond to break.~ He stilled as that reality sank in, really sank in, and he shuddered. ~Even knowing this would come of it, I don't think I would have changed my choice. It knows so much though. _She_ knows so much.~

Thoughts of Cybertron and the Autobots' darkest secrets flickered between them, but what really frightened Whiplash, deep in the relative security of his inner mind, was how many secrets of the few he held dear to him he'd given up in the process. The chilling knowledge that Etri, or it's mistress, could destroy everything he cared about more than his duty.

~Do you really think it'd do that?~ Jazz asked him quietly. ~Lyzen might, but Etri?~

~It, no,~ he murmured, pressing close within the shared mindspace as he welcomed the enveloping embrace of the two closest to him. ~Her ... if she saw reason to. Etri told me a lot in those two metacycles it was courting me and left me with more. She's at least as ruthless as I am and far older. Mitrix may have reformatted and reprogrammed the Tezita into their modern form, but the Si'Mir has been a single individual since the time of Singer, maybe even longer, and her control over the future of the race is so solid.~

~How?~ Jazz asked, unable to keep his interest from suddenly being jerked to that topic. ~That's not possible, from what we know about them.~

~I don't know,~ Whiplash admitted. ~It told me that Mother would change her looks and name and had many bodies. The how of it I do not know, only that it is a great secret. I think Etri told me as repayment for what it'd learn from me. It won't do as much damage as what it knows could do to us, but I gathered it's a major piece of blackmail material.~

~It is,~ Jazz agreed. ~Do you want me to explain how, or leave that for another time?~

Whiplash felt himself relax a bit, both at the warm strength of his top Lieutenants and the knowledge that they did have something on the Si'Mir now.

~I'd like to know,~ he murmured and began to return the caresses he received.

~The Tezita usually only last a ganon or so - the Toe'Emirc change over so often because their bodies burn out,~ Jazz explained, letting Moonlit focus on anything more than simply being close to Whiplash and making sure he knew they were both there for him. ~'Lyzen' should have been dead about ten of them ago, from the sound of things. It's very, very bizarre at least, and something she shouldn't want to have get out. What I don't understand is why none of the other Toe'Emirc recognize it.~

~So she's figured out how to be effectively immortal and hasn't told anyone,~ Whiplash chuckled. ~Yes, that's definitely something that can be used against her. Have you had much contact with her yet?~

~Not yet, but soon,~ Jazz confirmed. ~After you're doing better, and Etri's howling is at a tolerable level, I think. It also suggests, given what we know, that there are some other issues at play - definitely good blackmail material, though I'd rather not put it to use unless we have to.~

~At the very least we need to understand the full extent of what we're blackmailing her with,~ Moonlit spoke up. ~Whether we're threatening her, personally, or something that could bring down her world. This could go either way, as I see it right now.~

~Agreed,"~ Whiplash murmured, his energy reserves spent.

~Rest, Lash,~ Jazz murmured and wrapped him in a warm, protective blanket of his mind. ~Nothing is going south yet. Maybe not for a long time. We'll be ready when it does. Not like last time.~

~We can never let that happen again,~ Whiplash growled with more strength than he should have had. ~We can never let a Prime make that mistake again.~

~We won't,~ Jazz and Moonlit promised in unison with all the strength they had.

~Rest, Lash,~ Moonlit insisted, adding her mind to the layers protecting her mentor from the world and the pain in his own spark. ~Unbonded does not mean alone.~

~Never alone,~ Jazz whispered in agreement as Whiplash began to drift off again. ~You've never been alone and never will be.~

* * *

Two days later Jazz was sitting in the corner of the rec room, drinking his evening energon and watching the activity.

There was the usual stuff; the twins playing video games, Hound and Mirage trying to look like they were not together, Gears complaining about something no one paid attention to, Bumblebee trying to cheer up Bluestreak, Smokescreen talking in a hushed voice as he took beats on something. Even Starscream's presence close to Skyfire was becoming normal. From the look he'd gotten in passing of the pad they were debating quietly over, he suspected the pair wouldn't be white and red much longer.

Then there was the unusual stuff; two of the three Tezita civilians were deep in a quiet debate of some kind with Whippoorwill, Windsong, Noitefel and _Prowl_ of all mechs ... though Jazz was quick to amend that he shouldn't be surprised to see Prowl anywhere Noitefel was. The two tacticians were definitely courting in his opinion, though Primus only knew if they realized it yet.

"Most likely," a deep voice said from one side before Thundercracker sat down at the table with his own energon.

Jazz looked at him quizzically. Thundercracker's presence was almost as weird as Starscream ... scratch that, it was weirder, because Thundercracker knew _exactly_ what he'd done in the last nine ganon and wasn't the least bit concerned about it. Starscream was still more than a bit edgy around anyone but Skyfire, Prime and Ezara and seriously freaked about what his name was now linked to.

"Noitefel and Prowl are aware they are a couple," the Seeker elaborated. "Even if they haven't made the public announcement yet."

"You hardly know either of them," Jazz pointed out evenly, even though he was shocked the _infamously_ grounder-hating Seeker would even _notice_ two ground-bound mechs that much. Yet here Thundercracker was, discussing two ground-bound mechs being lovers with a third ground-bound mech as if was the most normal conversation to have in the Ark's rec room. It was almost enough to cause _Jazz's_ logic center to crash. "How would you know?"

Thundercracker chuckled softly and took a sip of energon. He wasn't quite convinced he liked the flavor of the Autobot formula, but he very much enjoyed teasing the Autobot saboteur now that he wouldn't get slagged for it. "I know plenty about Prowl, and wings. He's only marginally more emotional than Soundwave. Anytime someone like that does not break the hand groping his wings, they're at least lovers. We both know it's quite a liberty for anyone else to take."

"And with what I know about both of them - just where were you that you saw something like that?" Jazz asked him appraisingly. Depending on the answer, and how accurate it was, this could prove interesting. He did have a point ... door-wings weren't much less sensitive than Seeker-wings ... and Prowl was definitely very protective of his.

"Ten thousand feet, out on patrol," Thundercracker smirked. "They never saw me, but I got good a show."

"About how long ago was this?" Jazz asked him with mild curiosity as he relaxed. While he was on patrol as a Decepticon - that wasn't so big a deal, really. No doubt the tacticians would be seriously annoyed at being caught, but from a security standpoint it was expected. Now if Thundercracker had been able to catch the two of them around the Ark, without being noticed ... well, especially with Lyzen around, he'd have to have a word with them both about putting a tighter leash on him.

Granted, it was unlikely they _would_ put a tighter leash on him unless he turned violent without provocation. The small nanite snake that lived on the Seeker was a visible reminder to all, including Thundercracker himself, of whom he answered to now. It was highly unlikely that he did anything that Lyzen didn't know about almost instantly.

"Mmm, maybe a quartex ago," he shrugged. "After I decided to defect, but well before the opportunity came up."

"About what I'd thought," he nodded slightly. "Y'might consider trying to get into the pool with Whippoorwill. 'Course, wings aren't as big a deal for Prowl as they are for you Seekers."

"I don't expect they are," Thundercracker agreed. "I've never done anything with a grounder's doors other than rip them off. The screaming and system shutdowns afterwards are intense, though."

"Careful about what you talk about around here," Jazz observed, noticing the scowls the overheard statement earned from a few people. "Might be true, but there's a lot of folks here who'd love an excuse to take a few previous experiences out on you."

A low click from the serpent coiled around his shoulder vent stopped the reply. Thundercracker gave a low huff and shrugged, his gaze drawn to Starscream and Skyfire. "He barely screeches anymore," he murmured instead, his mind going a completely different direction in a sparkbeat.

"Hmm?" Jazz asked, looking over to follow his attention. "When he talks, you mean?"

"Not even Megatron could shut him up before," Thundercracker chuckled a bit and sipped his energon. "Not for long at least. I'd forgotten how cute he is when he's sane."

"Certainly easier to put up with," Jazz acknowledged. "With what the Forge does though, it's easy to see how he got so twisted up inside."

The Seeker cocked his head slightly and looked down at him, his expression a mixture of amusement and a derisive sneer. "You really believe the Forge is the source of all evil? I was beginning to think you were smarter than that. Everything he became was already there. The Forge just brings it to the fore. Your Prime probably wouldn't change at all. Now Prowl," he lifted his lip in an almost appreciative sneer as his gaze worked down the mech's solid frame. "_He'd_ be downright frightening afterwards. A right proper Con. But you'd still recognize everything there."

"And I'd thought that you were smart enough to recognize the difference between thinking something was the source of all evil and recognizing that it could seriously screw up somebody's circuits," Jazz snorted. "You're right, it could seriously frag up Prowl. Same way it did Shockwave. Just like it could me," Jazz said with a half-smile in his voice, leaving the prospect for Thundercracker to consider.

A low chuckle greeted the statement and a flash of red optics that nearly went dark enough to show desire. "You and your mentor," Thundercracker nearly purred. "I don't think either of you _need_ it to know exactly what you'd become though," he leaned back and drank more of his cube, his optics lingering on the Porsche. "From everything I've heard of him, maybe he's already been there. No matter what Megatron says, he hasn't always controlled it, and not everyone to claim the upgrades has become a Con. He thinks he knows who everyone is, but he's not that good, and neither's Shockwave. Screamer there knew how to bypass the system, and I'm sure he shared, either to spite Megatron or save his wings."

"And did he ever share with you?" Jazz asked him, with the same sort of teasing tone. "Or did your trine not trust you enough for that?"

"He showed me once when we on guard duty early on," he huffed with a shrug. "I didn't exactly pay attention to the braggart. It wasn't something I needed to know and I like my wings intact."

"Fair enough," Jazz shrugged slightly. "If you know how to access it though, it'd be worth something... assuming the intel paid off. Not like you've got any reason to be loyal to Megatron anymore."

"I never was," Thundercracker shrugged. "I can't imagine what you have to offer that I'd want."

"Y'd be _amazed_ what I have access to," Jazz grinned. "Especially with Blaster in the mix." He made a short, coded broadcast, then processed a data card, passing it over. "A pity that the rebellion started just before Vos' last theater season, isn't it?"

The statement earned him a look that was hard to interpret, but apparently was enough to make Starscream look their way and pay attention.

Once more Jazz was reminded of just how much Seekers used body language and subsonic sounds to communicate, and most of it was done without conscious thought on their part. It was one more factor of their lives that he was only starting to grasp the full extent of now that he lived with a couple of them. It was well-known they did it, and most Autobots knew at least the basics of wing posturing from inference, but it was every bit as complex as door-winger body language and far more expressive. How many battlefield signals had they missed over the ganon over that lack of knowledge?

Starscream's back strut went rigid and his wing tips climbed quickly, quivering ever so slightly. His bright white optics locked on Thundercracker. Even Skyfire seemed to be reacting to whatever signals the blue Seeker was putting off, though not nearly as strongly as his bonded.

By half way through the datacard Thundercracker's intakes hitched and he was almost shaking in his effort not to break down. Memories of home and belonging and _knowing_ his place came rushing back, threatening to crash his processor worse than when he'd realized his only choice to keep his honor as a Seeker was to support Megatron and a cause he didn't really believe in.

"_Dreamer of the Storm's Heart,_" Thundercracker's voice was barely above a whisper, his optics no longer focused on anything for a long moment. "_HOW?_" he finally looked at Jazz with incredulous disbelief. "It was only performed _once_."

"Before the war, Blaster worked for Iacon's broadcasting network," Jazz told him easily. "He had his contacts, and before everything went to the Pit he made sure he got everything he thought was worthwhile off the data servers. He's got the full recordings by Vos' Heritage Network for all those and more, though it'd take him a while to get the recording prepared in full quality. So - I take it you're interested?"

A mute nod was all Thundercracker could manage as his processor churned. A _grounder_ had saved Vos' heritage, _his_ heritage. A _grounder_ had done what no Seeker had managed. Where did _that_ leave him?

Half way across the room, Starscream settled and turned back to his conversation with Skyfire, but other Autobots had grown interested in the uncharacteristic reaction Thundercracker was displaying.

"Information on how to get into the Forge - the best you can give me - for Dream. If it checks out, you can have another one from the list," Jazz offered. "If you toss in your access codes and schematics to the Nemesis, I'll toss in a couple of the others. What else do you think you have that I'd be interested in?"

Thundercracker bit his lower derma without realizing it and stared at the list, his processors churning even as he began to speak. "I know every base and outpost location on Earth and Cybertron, their schematics, command personnel, normal crew numbers and general purpose."

"I'll want to check out the intel before the full trade, but that sounds fair to me," Jazz agreed. "You prepare your intel, I'll have Blaster prepare the recordings, we'll have Prime keep the recordings while I check your intel to my satisfaction? You know he'll keep his word."

"Yes, he does," Thundercracker nodded slightly and finished his cube. "Five recordings for minor outposts, fifteen for major facilities. The full seasons from four five-zero-two zero-eight-five through ninety-five for Decepticon Headquarters on Cybertron with access codes."

Jazz was sure the Seeker was less sure about _Jazz_ keeping his implied word that he'd tell Prime the truth, but that was always true when first courting an intel source. The only way to beat that was to prove himself - which he knew he'd have to do from the start.

"Sounds like a deal to me," Jazz nodded slightly, sending the message to Blaster to prep a set of discs and a full inventory list. "Let me know when you're ready, I'll go explain the situation to Prime."

Thundercracker nodded his acceptance and watched the Autobot leave, his thoughts still in turmoil.

For his part, Jazz was more than a little chuffed that he'd managed to turn a random conversation the Seeker had started into such an Intel coupe. Not even _he'd_ expected to pull off this kind of deal so quickly. He pinged Teletraan-1 for Prime's location and headed for his office.

"Come in," Optimus said to the buzzer. "Hello Jazz," he smiled warmly, even though his battle mask hid it.

"Hi - I need to talk with you about a trade," Jazz grinned openly as he stepped in and let the door close behind him. He took quiet note that Crashcourse was in deed the one on duty. "It's almost a shame that Thundercracker defected, honestly. If I'd known he was this easy to work with, who knows where we'd be now."

That raised an optic ridge in curiosity even as he motioned for Jazz to sit. "Even if he still had Starscream and Skywarp, and quite probably Megatron watching him for it?"

"As desperate as he seems to be right now? I'd say so," Jazz said after a few moments to consider. "He's going to be preparing a data packet for us that could give Magnus and Moonlit a _much_ easier time on Cybertron, as well as helping us here. All it's going to cost us is a copy of a good chunk of Blaster's collection of plays out of Vos."

The delight made Optimus' optics glitter. "He's hungry for home, for the culture he left behind," he rumbled in approval and nodded. "How did this conversation come up?"

"A round-a-bout way that started with him sitting next to me and commenting on Prowl and Noitefel being a couple, moved onto Starscream, the Forge ... where I offered to make it worth his while if he could give good intel on it's location and how to access it. I wasn't really expecting him to bite, but he dared me."

Optimus laughed at that. "Which you have never been able to resist."

"You know me too well," he chuckled a bit. "I expected there'd be something in Blaster's collection that would get his attention. I really didn't expect all I got. Not just the Forge, but locations, schematics, command staff, crew and purpose for almost every Con facility on Earth and Cybertron. That includes Decepticon Headquarters on Cybertron and the Nemesis here on Earth, with access codes."

"Impressive," Optimus couldn't help but be surprised. He was very aware of how valuable that intel would be, even if some of it was no doubt out of date. Thundercracker was long-standing member of the Decepticon's commanding trine, even if he wasn't a known command officer. His intel would have been very good at the time he got it.

"Now that I have access to Cybertron again, imagine what he might give up from something tangible. Say the high-grade formula from his tower. Sides can even make a sample." Jazz was getting positively elated at the prospect of mining the Seeker's memory banks with such simple bribes.

"Just don't get him too attached," Optimus wished he didn't have to give the warning. "He's not a Con anymore, he's Vistra. Lyzen and Ezara will both take exception to you fully recruiting one of their prize members."

"He's not worth as much to me as a full recruit," Jazz pointed out. "If he's with the Vistra, he presents a good casual contact with them, especially given the importance they're placing on him. Of course, if Ezara's not careful, they might end up driving him away, but that's a different issue."

"Ezara is no longer the one who handles that," Optimus said even as he nodded. "Lyzen handles all planned breedings and has made it very clear to me that she understands, even to the parts she doesn't agree with. Thundercracker ... all the former Con Seekers except Skywarp are _hers_."

"And no one is willing to cross her," Jazz nodded thoughtfully. "I wonder how much Thundercracker knows about her plans for him."

"You have far more access to them both than I do," Optimus smiled slightly. "But whatever he knows, I expect it's enough to make him believe he's all but immune to Autobot retaliation for his vocalizer."

"It shows," Jazz admitted. "He made a crack out there that could've started a fight if he'd been louder about it, or Prowl and I hadn't been around. Fortunately, it didn't."

"So far he's been that lucky," he said quietly. "Though I rather doubt it luck. He is smart, and I can't imagine Decepticon infighting isn't a skill he's mastered. Given what they're like in public, on the battlefield, their rec room must be positively venomous. But you came here to talk to me about the trade. That isn't exactly normal MO for you."

"I have to convince 'im that he can trust us - me in particular," Jazz pointed out. "Especially since I need him to turn at least part of it over before I pay him for it, so I can check it out. So I'll need you to hang onto the payment for him, and promise him to deliver it if and when the intel checks out. Y'have a reputation for being honest - I have a reputation for being Intel," he chuckled.

"Yes, I can see how that could be an issue," Optimus nodded his understanding and smiled to himself. "Of course I am willing. Hopefully he will trust you soon enough to delver them yourself."

"I hope so too," Jazz agreed. "Thanks, Optimus - I'll let you get back to work for now then," he offered, backing up to the door. "Unless there's something you'd like to talk about?"

"No," he shook his head. "You are quite aware of the primary complaint I hear about you, and I know you are working on it."

"Of course," Jazz nodded slightly, grateful that their mutual CO saw his efforts as sufficient. "Unfortunately, it's not exactly easy to come up with a review process for 'need to know.' Prowl will probably _never_ be happy with it, in the end."

"Unfortunately you are likely correct, though a good faith effort and a few vorn will sooth his outrage," Optimus offered him a reassuring look. "It is working, and Noitefel's insights are helping you as well. It seems he has spent much of his existence working both sides of that particular balancing act, caught between keeping the Prime informed and keeping him safe. Now, unless you want to let the Si'Mir botnap you, you may wish to make yourself scarce," he teased. "She is looking for you, it seems."

"It's probably going to be safer to just go and see what she wants," Jazz chuckled. "Thanks for helping with Thundercracker," he added as he left, only to loiter in the hall for Lyzen to appear.

"Thank you for waiting," her voice was cheerful, though forced, but he didn't doubt the words.

"Best to deal with it now," Jazz shrugged slightly and turned to walk with her towards the Ark's entrance. "What is it y'need to talk about?"

"What we've been putting off since I got here," she allowed her displeasure to filter into her tone. "All the unpleasant parts of setting up an allied Intel network. Primarily who our deep cover agents are."

"Agreed," he admitted. "I thought you might have wanted to talk about my conversation with Thundercracker. Come on, I have a private area we can talk in," he told her, leading the way down a corridor.

There was a brief pause, then a chuckle. "No, you are quite welcome to bribe him for Con intel. Maybe it'll settle his vocalizer a bit to have a reason to play nice, other than me."

"I know it's bad form to actively recruit your new members, but I figured it was safe as long as it was for 'Con intel." Jazz chuckled, leading her to a private conference room, hitting a button along the table as he took a seat. "Teletraan-1 is recording right now, but without Prime's authorization it won't make the logs available," Jazz explained.

Lyzen nodded and settled down on the far side of the table from the door, the spot that gave her the best command of the room and it's access, but was also careful not to put her back to the air ducts.

"Since I've already given you more than most of Lydrom's commanding officers know, how about you start?" she suggested.

"Right," Jazz nodded slightly. "Do you have any names that you retrieved from Etri yet, or is he still recovering?" He asked her respectfully.

"Tetris is going by Flytrap. Killshot and Sandtrap are both yours. The Neutrals Quicksilver and Vagrant are as well," she said and accepted the glass of fine high-grade he poured her from a subspace stash. "I'm still shuffling through data for who's still active, who are just covers names, but those are full time undercover I'm reasonably sure of."

"I'm still catching up after being offline for four ganon and suddenly being promoted," Jazz pointed out. "Particularly on the Cybertron end of things. I'm not going to mention the known KIA's, so I'm also aware of Deadvolt and Kilowatt; they're 'Cons who we managed to get to convert. As for additional deep-cover mechs, I don't have any on Earth yet, or we'd have gotten Prime and Ezara back a lot faster."

"I'm sure," she inclined her head. "I control six Decepticons directly, through four agents. Starshine's trine is controlled by Meki. Graveripper was taken over by Shie. Nightside was taken by Purn. Aquarius considered herself independent, but she still wore the Con insignia. Kem got her."

"They're all dead, after your agent leaves them?" He asked her seriously. "Or can't you be sure?"

"I've confirmed that they all followed procedure. The Cybertronian sparks are long gone from those frames," she said firmly. "They are all going to be subtly helping the Autobot cause, though not at the cost of their cover until the main assault. If Ezara takes over, they will remain with their current frames to assist integration efforts."

"Of course," Jazz nodded slightly. "One of them who helped us find Ezara, Prime, the Guards, and I?" He guessed. "Never did get its name."

"No, that wasn't the same class of agent," she shook her head and took a sip of the high grade. "That was a Monitor, not an Infiltrator. Monitors integrate themselves into facilities to monitor and record what is going on, only acting when called on to with the proper codes. Most are not that independent, but given the mission, I sent the most intelligent ones with my Infiltrators. It acted to assist the Toe'Emirc, but I'm still mildly surprised at how active it was, even for her."

"So am I, in that case - I'd actually thought it was one of your agents, leaving its body behind in recharge for a while," Jazz admitted. "Is it that they're not capable of it, or that they're not programmed for it?"

Lyzen leaned back, thinking that over for a slow sip of energon and rolled it around her mouth to indulge in the new flavor.

"A mixture of very little programming for independent or even reactionary thought and a general lack of intelligence to do anything with the information they acquire. They exist on the border between very advanced tool and very primitive sentience. The reason they qualify as the latter is because the oldest and most advanced of them do have some independence, which you saw in action with the one assigned to Nemesis."

"Interesting. Are they something you build, or do they breed like most Tezita?" He asked her.

"A little bit of both," she chuckled. "Has Ezara shown you a spider?"

After a moment Jazz nodded. "A couple times. She uses them as scouts and spies. The same as the snake that lives on Thundercracker?"

"Yes, something like that," she smiled faintly. "Her spiders and my snake are best described as drones. They have neither spark nor any capability for intelligence, though they do carry enough coding to not require attention at all times. A Monitor is the step above a drone and below an Infiltrator. They do not have a spark of their own, at least not until they are extremely old, but they can be given somewhat complex orders and left to do it for extended periods."

"A technology you'd be willing to share?" He asked her curiously. "It'd be helpful for us. We could probably develop it ourselves, but a head start would be good to have."

"Given the technology that has to precede it, I'm not very keen to," she told him honestly. "They are based on nanite tech after all, and a nanite body for the one with a spark. It would create a very ... significant ... change to your nature to use it, including a distinct possibility it will reduce your lifespan closer to ours."

"What sort of differences are there, between the lifespans for military and civvie?" He asked her, looking at the main difference they were talking about. "From what Ezara said, it sounded more like a fundamental issue with the Tezitan spark - something about absorbing more power making it burn out."

"That is a conversation better had between Mitrix, Singer and Ratchet," she laughed easily and lightly and toasted him with her glass. "But I'll give you the basics. A civilian frame is stable for about half a ganon and can last five with careful maintenance, though few manage that. From the reports I have they are very similar to your design, though not nearly as advanced in most aspects. They fail for the same reasons yours do.

"A military frame is good for a ganon and a half, average. While nanites can reproduce indefinitely, they also become flawed over time, and the more powerful the spark they are attached to, the faster that happens. One as strong as Ezara is unlikely to last a ganon, while many of the weaker beasts and non-coms can last two if nothing happens to them. Drones and other not-quite-people are linked to the one who spawned them."

Jazz nodded, processing that. "What's the longest anyone lived?" he asked curiously.

"Mmm," she hummed as she thought about that. "I believed Corsa is, or at least she's very close to it. She celebrated surviving her fourth ganon not long ago."

"Does she have any idea how she did it?" Jazz asked her curiously. "I doubt it's just a weak spark, given who she is."

"To an extent, yes," Lyzen gave him a faint smile. "There has been little documented link between the strength of a spark and the will or maximum skill of the individual. Though you are right, she is not an unusually weak spark, though it is not particularly strong either. There are procedures that can extend life expectancy when used near the end, but most seems to be an ability to keep going. Truth be told, there has been very little interest in exploring or extending lifespan."

"It just seems like a remarkable difference," he said easily. "You have people like Corsa, who've seen four ganon, and then you've got the Toe'Emirc, who's lucky to last a full ganon. Not just because of violent death, but because their bodies simply burn out."

"We're a reproducing species," she ripped with another shrug. "Death is part of that. There have always been those that die young, and those that live a seemingly impossible length in every species."

"Very true," he nodded. "So - back to business. What sort of a role do you see for Tezitan Intelligence on Cybertron?"

"Not much," she said with a tone that spoke of mild unease with the choice. "Ezara has made it quite clear that I'm to keep clear of Autobot territory. Which means a mostly open presence. A handful of agents to smooth over the cultural and command issues and keep tabs on trouble."

"Up until the war's over, though?" He asked her. "There's plenty of territory that isn't Autobot, right now. Or do you only have the Infiltrators so far?"

"They, and a couple Monitors, are all I could send until we were sure of where she'd finally stop. Earth and Cybertron were highly likely, but not enough to invest more than I did. It's been nearly thirteen vorn since I had the access of my rank. When she disappeared most of Lydrom accepted the Polidrin. Only a few of us remained loyal enough to go underground to wait it out. I have a few agents I can pull from nearby systems if need be, but until she wins Lydrom back I have much less to work with than even you do."

"Understood," he nodded slightly. "In that case, is there any chance that your Infiltrators might be able to help me? Like you said, neither of us has many operatives in place, but if you're looking for more than just information it could be helpful. Especially since you're operatives are officially outside my purview and restrictions."

Lyzen considered him thoughtfully for a lingering moment. "I am generally unwilling to blow their cover, but I can certainly pass on some missions your Prime would be unhappy about. I do answer to Ezara, but she is not all that fussy about most things I do."

"And even if you'd told her about them, I'm sure she'd be quite willing," Jazz nodded. "She's got a lot fewer qualms than the Boss Bot, for better or for worse. Means we have to be careful about doing anything more than actual information gathering."

"That is always true," she agreed. "Are you sure you wanted that recorded where your Prime could hear it?"

"He knows it's true already, and it's been recorded more than once," Jazz said, shrugging slightly. "Maybe we should get some air, though?"

Lyzen inclined her head and stood with a smooth grace that generally only came with a relaxed mech. "That sounds like a fine idea. Earth is a lovely world with so much to see and smell."

"Especially around here - you prefer plantlife, or something more like what you're used to?" He asked, leading her outside with nods and friendly greetings to those along the way.

"Mmm, I'd like to experience what makes Earth so different from Lydrom and Cybertron," she decided. "What is special about this world."

"John Day Fossil Beds," Jazz decided, transforming once they were under the open skies. He noted that her form flowed into a very good rendition of a brand new Ferrari Testarossa in brilliant red. "Nice taste," he couldn't help but admire her for a moment.

"Thank you," Lyzen rumbled in appreciation as they rolled out, Jazz in the lead.

::It's the closest of the low-population sites in the area,:: he said as they raced down the dirt road at far above the legal limit for humans. ::Among other things, we can look for the fossilized remains of animals from millions of years ago, and the scenery is lovely for the area. Not very green, but lovely. Also a good place to talk without worrying about anybody picking up on our broadcasts.::

::Always a good thing,:: Lyzen agreed and they fell into the comfortable silence of those who spent much of their lives in silence.

Almost.

It wasn't long before strange sounds came from inside Jazz's main cargo compartment. Lyzen sent a questioning ping. Not so much an outright question but a definite query for information.

::Earth music - old habit,:: he chuckled slightly. ::Good way to get a feel for the locals.::

::If you're wired that way,:: she agreed easily. ::Their intoxicants, games and animals are more towards my processor patterns.::

::Fair enough. You'll find they're completely fixated on intoxicants, particularly liquid ones. They're even known to die from it.::

::That ... I'm not sure I even want to know how to manage that,:: she admitted after trying to wrap her processors around it for some time.

::Yeah, I know. It's the oddest thing, but they do it. They've even given up on how many intoxicant varieties they use, but it's in the thousands, and that's before you start counting particular makers as varieties.::

::Wow. For a species to feel the need to escape that badly...:: Lyzen murmured, still trying to process it.

::That's not the half of it. Most popular ones are depressants they use to excite themselves, and stimulants they use to relax - you figure that one out. I gave up on it.:: he added. ::There are plenty of really good humans, and too many messed up ones.::

::So I'm gathering.::

::On the bright side, most of their games are team and tactics oriented,:: Jazz continued, shifting topics. ::Almost all veiled combat simulations, but that's pretty typical for every species I've met.::

::If not combat, then hunting,:: she agreed readily. ::From animals on up, it's how youth learn survival skills after all. It _is_ nice to know they are a social species, though I did work out as much given their population densities. Have you found out how much of their crowding is by preference and how much is by need?::

::It seems to be mostly by need, though it varies widely. People can often choose to move to somewhere that's less crowded if they want to, and some do. Others crave the sort of busy life that they have in the big cities, or places like Japan. Ironically, the further apart they tend to live, the closer they seem to be, a lot of the time.::

::That is fascinating,:: Lyzen said with genuine interest. ::How do they determine who their warriors are? Are they as aggressive towards each other as their media seems to suggest?::

::Varies from one nation to the next,:: he told her. ::Some of them, military service is universally expected. Others, it's all, or at least mostly, volunteer. There's generally a group that does it at a career level, all of them volunteers with the right skills and abilities. As for the aggression... yes and no. Their media plays up the sensationalism and the rare occasions, but sometimes they can be even worse than it would suggest. As usual, they're at their most dangerous when they're defending concepts, rather than things or people. Some of their most dangerous members are the idealists.::

::Hummm, very different from Lydrom. Not that idealists can't be extremely dangerous, but they've never made that much of an impact worldwide. How well controlled is the general population by their governments?::

::Too well, in most cases,:: Jazz told her. ::Some countries are blatant about it, some are subtle, but there's a very strong apathetic streak in them about their government, most of the time. It's almost universal to not trust your government, but do whatever they say without much more than a little grumbling about it.::

Lyzen rolled that around her processors for some time, dissecting the concept and assessing it on many levels.

::They think like our civilians then. Never content with what they have, but rarely willing to do anything about it,:: she eventually decided. ::The few that are willing to risk to improving their lot tend to do well, at least on Lydrom.::

::It seems to be the universal case... don't know that they do as well here, but that's the way with risking what you have. Sometimes you win the game, sometimes you lose it.::

::Such is _life_,:: she chuckled knowingly. ::Anything worth having is worth risking for. But then, we've both chosen to be among those who do well.::

::Sometimes to the chagrin of those around us,:: Jazz acknowledged. ::Playing with that line between bending and breaking the rules.::

::So true. I've always been partial to either rewriting the rules, or simply not being caught at anything they care about. Let him chastise you for small things and give no hint that the big things are happening,:: she said with a fond kind of amusement. ::Though I must admit that _nothing_ beats raising your next leader. She thinks more like Intel than an Officer, and Carin found the idea appealing.::

::Just how much influence did you have over her? She seemed pretty well fully-grown before you got at her,:: he pointed out.

::Fully grown, yes, but with no education - she couldn't even read or write - and we took her into a completely new society.:: Lyzen explained. ::She was completely dependant on us, on me, to explain everything, to provide everything, for those first few wraa. I'm the closest thing she's ever had to a caretaker.::

::How did you get her to acclimate to that society? She'd grown up in an entirely different world, it seems,:: Jazz pointed out. ::From the slums to the Towers is a pretty big leap, even with tutors.::

::It is,:: Lyzen acknowledged. ::Her path was more along the lines of the slums to the arena to Prime, though. Her arena background is what I used. She was accustomed to the idea of ritualized combat, rank and order. It taught her the principle that if she followed the rules, she'd be rewarded. I simply built on that foundation. Do remember, every wraa I brought arena warriors into the military. They typically began with low rank and worked up, but the socialization and education process is much the same. Her rank may have been unusual, but nothing else was.::

::Is that sort of split usual in a Toe'Emirc? Able to handle the military, but no real idea how to deal with civilian nobility?::

::Yes,:: she answered easily. ::They are the military leader. We really have very little to do with civilians outside of the resource centers where we hand out necessities to the needy. We don't have nobles though, civilian or military. Some civvies are successful and wealthy, a few manage to pass the skills on to their young, but there is nothing like the nobility of Cybertron or Earth among us.::

::Meritocracy among your civilians then? Not that it isn't among the military, it just seems a very different type of merit that determines rank,:: he added before he could offend.

::An accurate description, at least as I understand it. To be honest, and I've been at this a _long_ time, the arenas are the only part of the civilian world that I can make much sense of. They are strange creatures, those that don't have the spark for conquest, which is most of them. The fighters find their way to the arenas and my attention. The intellectuals find their way to the universities and business, where most of the E'on candidates come from. Once I heard Lydrom described as a self-sorting caste system. It seems right, most of the time.::

::You've just described every system that isn't a formal one,:: Jazz chuckled. ::How often do the Civvies end up causing you trouble? Or are the only enemies of the Tezitan military themselves?::

She chuckled and relaxed. ::Civvies have never caused trouble. We learned our lessons from the Lydrom before they destroyed themselves. The core tenant of the government's purpose is to ensure that those who want to fight have someone to fight, those that crave knowledge are educated and no one goes hungry or lives in pain if they come to us. The system is far from perfect, Ezara is proof of that, but the civvies are told to come for energy and repairs often enough that there is not enough desperation to support a revolt.::

::I'm sorry, but I have to count the military revolts too, though I know they're not part of the question I asked you,:: Jazz told her. ::Cybertron's always had enough enemies on the outside to keep the warriors happy enough, at least until Megatron and the 'Cons started turning up. And Megatron wouldn't have been satisfied if we _had_ been in the middle of a major war, that's part of the problem with megalomania.::

::We've never had an outsider come close,:: she admitted. ::If there is a battle, it is against other Tezita. It's always military against military, and always tightly controlled once Delta Six unified us. Our wars seem to be little like the wars we have encountered on other worlds. I consider it because we fight for a different reason than most.::

::What sort of outsiders do you have in your galaxy, if you don't mind talking about it?:: He asked her. ::Ezara never brought any up.::

::We're the only space-capable group we have found so far,:: she said as they passed into John Day and transformed to walk casually through the rocky terrain. "And the only technology-based one."

"Fair enough," he nodded. "So, now that we're alone - back to business? How often have you had to work with honest idealists in the past?"

Lyzen groaned. "Just often enough to eliminate them before they gain any real power. Toe'Emirc on a mission are hard enough to control. Real idealists are a bane and blight on the universe."

"Depends on how far they carry the idealism," Jazz pointed out. "Prime's one of them. Honor, nobility - all those 'hero' traits are there, and sincerely held. When the war started, I'd have chalked it up to inexperience, but with everything that's happened he's only become more dedicated, it seems."

"So I gathered from Ezara. I understand that most find those traits admirable, but for me, they are nothing but grief. They have been nothing but grief for you." she said, her sensors fully open and sweeping their surroundings.

It would have been invasive if directed at a target, but as a sweep Jazz let it passed. He couldn't really blame her for being on high alert.

"Professionally, yes," he admitted. "But there's more to it than just that. You're right; things would be a lot easier if I didn't have to go through channels that I know are closed. But at the same time, there's something to be said for working for a higher cause that's not just lip service. Intel is still trying to figure out how to handle it, but it's a nice problem to have."

Lyzen cocked her head at him, picking up on language she would not have chosen. "I can't say I've worked for lip service," she said the unusual phrase cautiously. "Toe'Emirc are not prone to behaving differently than they believe. Their nature is what brought them rank. It gives little reason to hide what they are doing."

"You also haven't have the same type of wars to deal with," Jazz offered. "How many of your civil wars have actually been fought over fundamental differences, rather than just because battle is the purpose of the people fighting it?"

"Mmm, I'd say five, possibly six, of the twenty-three," she decided after a moment to think. "At least at the level between Autobots and Decepticons. They still played out within the rules however. It's part of my purpose to see to it that no one that would actually do more than that survives long enough to do so."

"We don't have rules like that on Cybertron, at least not beyond the rules of war and what you do or don't do. We don't have a system like yours," he tried to explain. "Not enough warrior-sparks to really arrange for it, either. Practically every war fought on Cybertron has, to some extent, had popular support behind it, ranging from the Rebellion to the empire building under Nova Prime. The civilians get out of the way of wars on Lydrom, but on Cybertron they're the people who have to fight them, to some extent. It makes leaders who can convince people that a war is justifiable or necessary vital to a war effort. And it makes leaders like Optimus, who actually believe what they're saying, even more important."

"I do understand," she told him, her gaze somewhere not quite in the physical realm. "I wasn't alive at the time, but I do have memories from those who fought under Delta Six, those who unified Lydrom under a single ruler and law. We remember those kinds wars when the Lydrom people ruled, and what it cost them." Her gaze returned and focused on Jazz. "They destroyed themselves with such leaders and ways, nearly destroyed their world and us. Right or wrong, moral or not, we have all chosen to never allow it to happen again. Each Si'Mir, each Toe'Emirc, has given their nod to the policy and the population has agreed, for they do not hide them from us. It is not a law we are interested in imposing on your kind."

Jazz nodded, only somewhat reassured by her words, but willing to let it go for now. It wasn't like he had a reason not to trust her as an ally. Ezara certainly believed Lyzen was going to help, not hurt, them.

"So just how tight a leash does Prime have you on?" she asked when he didn't speak up for a moment.

"That's actually where I was heading at first," Jazz admitted with a low chuckle. "Regardless of who's in charge, we have to go through proper channels for any actions that would be deemed illegal normally. There's a little leeway there - I've already cleared with Prime that as long as somebody knows that we're 'out,' Intel can conduct surveillance, try getting into 'Con facilities, sabotage 'Con projects, recruiting, that sort of thing. Assassinations and particularly rough interrogations are where things get more complicated. Whiplash actually probably had an easier time of it - Magnus has a much harder Spark, for better or for worse. Ultimately, for me, it boils down to 'don't do it unless I'm damn sure I won't be caught.'"

Lyzen flicked her chin up in thoughtful understanding. "Not that different from the unofficial rules we operate under. It may not forbidden, but some Toe'Emirc are less than pleased with some activities. It keeps the peace when they simply do not find out what they don't like to know is happening. Which does lead in nicely to how I can make your life a little less frustrating under Prime's orders."

"Exactly," Jazz chuckled lowly. "After all, it's only natural that you or Ezara might hear about targets that I wish something could be done about beyond what Prime would authorize. If you chose to do something about them... well, that's hardly under my control, is it? Of course, the compensation would have to be more clearly untraced."

"Of course," she nearly purred. "Besides, it is my understanding that the Decepticons are notoriously violent to their own. I'm sure some level of casualties are simply expected within the ranks from internal issues. I hope you won't be too disappointed to know that Megatron, Soundwave and pretty much every Seeker are not targets I can eliminate. Though I can make their lives difficult."

"I knew Megatron wouldn't be," he nodded slightly. "Ezara needs to fight him to take the 'Cons over. Soundwave... I assume he's for the breeding program?"

Lyzen nodded. "At least until I'm sure his personality defects are too severe for it. A 'path that strong and stable is too valuable to discard without considerable effort. I won't protect any of them in battle, but I won't take them out myself either."

"That's one Hell of a definition of 'stable' you have there," he chuckled grimly. "I assume Whiplash's data files had information on what he's done?"

"Yes, I'm quite familiar with his hobbies from Whiplash," she gave him an all-too-knowing look of amusement. "Sadistic and psychopathic has little to do with stable. I can work with sadistic and psychopathic. The ability to maintain a solid sense of _self_ while constantly listening and feeling everyone around you is something that cannot be trained into or out of a 'path. Whether for breeding or simply study to understand why he can remain himself, I want him alive for a long time."

"This is only based on what I've read about him, and limited interactions, but my guess is that his sense of self-identity was probably pretty thoroughly shot from the get-go," Jazz offered. "If there's no 'yourself' to remain, you don't have to worry about losing it. Consider his linguistics."

"I know the arguments," she assured him. "I have to be ready to explain why the prize specimen in generations is dead to Se'drin when he arrives if I do end up putting Soundwave down. Right now I'm hoping for the best and prepared for the worst. At this point I'm not even positive we can reproduce, even if it seems likely. Just because the new spark forms does not mean it will survive, or be useful. There is a possibility even with two military Tezita of a youngling failing to mature."

"Especially when one parent is a Beast-spark?" He nodded slightly. "What do you think the odds are, for a Tezita/Cybertronian cross? We have absolutely nothing to base the numbers off of."

"Actually Beast-sparks, if they survive their parents, are almost always successful," she said with a fond smile for memories of all the births she'd assisted. "I will know a great deal more when one of them is put into a nanite mass to be born," she began, really thinking about all the odds. "On the conservative side, I'd say yours has a sixty percent chance of taking to a body. If it does, close to ninety percent chance of a healthy adult if there are no detectable issues in the first ten orn. Skywarp's chances are less, if our own natural fliers are anything to go by. They have an unusually high youngling mortality rate, even with the best care."

"How long will it take to have a mass available for them to be born into?" Jazz asked, considering the backup plans that could be developed.

"Technically, we have what is needed," she said with caution in her voice. "I would prefer to wait until the star cruisers have arrived and fully settled in, but I know both sparks will need to be in caretaker hands before the challenge. I'm planning to start with one after the third skimmer arrives. I'll have a dozen warriors, four more command officers and ten of my staff in addition to those already here. Between them there should be someone the youngling will accept."

"We should be able to have a couple of extra bodies available here as well, then," Jazz nodded slightly. "If the Tezita birthing process doesn't work for them, the Cybertronian one might... why would they fail to take to a body, when one is available?" He asked her.

Lyzen paused to think and organize her knowledge. "It is typically because it is too weak to last long, or lacks the intelligence to organize the body. Normally I do not condone extra measures for such sparks, but given its heritage, having a Cybertronian frame available would not be a bad idea. There is still so much we do not know about how our kind differ."

"Also, the instinctive control over a nanite body might not carry through, with the hybrid Spark," Jazz pointed out. "How much of it is a skill, compared to honestly just being an issue of intelligence?"

"It is a skill," she said simply. "Someone has to teach it during the birthing. Either a parent or supervisor."

"How long does the birthing process actually take?" He asked her curiously as they continued to walk through the rocky terrain. "That can't be a particularly easy thing to pick up."

"If everything goes well, as little as half a breem. Most will stop trying after three or four megacycles. Unlike on Cybertron, we do need to take care or we'll overpopulate any world we're on. There is a strong standard of only allowing healthy sparks survive."

"I understand, but I _definitely_ want a body there in case it doesn't work, then," Jazz said, trying to hide his reaction with mixed results. "There's no particular instinctive ability to do it, then?"

"Not that we know of," she flicked her chin left in the negative. "Though it's possible it can be picked up before separation. Some knowledge is passed from mother to newborn in the first few kliks. It also depends on the type of spark. Some types seem to have far more basic survival knowledge pre-loaded. Beasts in particular. They're the only kind that can mature without a caretaker, though the results are almost inevitably a feral, unable to socialize with normal adults."

"Not that likely in this case then - though she did hold onto both sparks longer than she was supposed to, from what I understand," he mused. "Is that likely to cause a problem?"

"It can, though I'm far more concerned about their half-Tezita heritage. The stasis jars should keep them from harm from the prolonged lack of a body. Singer is extremely knowledgeable; she was one of the finest healers Lydrom has produced, before or since. I am hoping Ezara will agree to allow her to oversee the birth. Her experience with unusual births far exceeds my own, though I have assisted more births."

"How does that work? Something unusual going on during her time?" Jazz looked up at her, trying to read her body language as much as her tone.

"No, she was merely an extraordinary healer that lived a long time. Since Mitrix we have gone to great lengths to improve our kind. A side result is that each generation sees fewer stillbirths and unstable sparks," she explained with no small amount of pride. "It has been nearly three hundred wraa since the last one."

"You won't want to talk about that sort of thing to the humans - they've got serious issues with breeding programs like that," Jazz cautioned politely. "But it seems to have worked pretty well for you, if it's improved that far... how often do births happen?"

Lyzen flicked her chin up in understanding. "It depends on projected needs," she began. "There are an average of two hundred thousand natural births - those I have not specifically arranged - and three million planned births a wraa. Before we began to found colonies, it was far less."

"Of course," Jazz nodded slightly. "Need to keep things manageable, after all. How many worlds do you have, so far?"

"We have one, control three and a presence on five," she answered quietly as they edged into a topic she was less conformable discussing. "Space exploration and expansion was Rawlind's passion."

"You weren't so crazy about the idea?" Jazz asked her.

"Not particularly," she admitted. "The further out a unit is, the harder it is to control. At some point the three of us will not be able to handle everything."

"There are ways to expand your system without losing control of it," he offered. "We have some experience with shifting from a tightly controlled system to a larger empire, though we returned to a smaller system before long. Nova Prime's expansionism didn't last long."

"Trusted officers are key to it, I know," Lyzen said, mulling over the statement for a while. "Since I doubt I can stop her, it would be appreciated."

"It's a somewhat longer conversation than we really want to have here," he chuckled. "But yes, trusted officers are key. Basically, the easiest approach is to take your top system, and then duplicate it on a smaller scale."

Lyzen flicked her chin up, her attention distant for a moment. "Do you have any undercover agents on Earth?" she changed the subject.

"Not the way you're thinking of, I'm sure," Jazz admitted. "We don't blend in with humans well, and most of the ones we're familiar with are very touchy to try and recruit. There's also the sheer lack of mechs. But I can usually get Mirage or Blaster in somewhere important if I need to know about something we can't find through other methods. Soundwave may have some mechs in various places, but undercover operatives aren't really his method - they're too independent."

"From what I have gathered, he prefers the more simple spying methods; perching his cassettes somewhere to listen in on things," she said as she knelt to slide a finger on the ground. "Amazing," her voice was very low now, likely only meant for herself. "From the Autobot point of view, for morale, what would be the most important targets to take back, or to have remain intact?"

"Nothing on Earth," Jazz told her as they began walking again. "And there's a delicate balance between doing things ourselves, and having the Tezita help. However, if the two of us can work together at softening up targets to be conquered by a combined force - as many of them before the main Tezita force arrives as possible - that would be ideal. From there, Iacon and Kaon are the most important, in that order. Altihex next, from a strategic standpoint. Really, there's no named city that isn't important for one or the other it's just a question of _how_ important. Polyhex would cut off 'Con communications, and give us back control of the satellite networks. Kalis gives us new recruits and a major morale boost, as well as cutting off 'Con energon supplies. Tyrest gives us orbital control, and would keep Megatron from trying anything stupid with the magnetic dampeners... order of importance would depend entirely on what they did in response. But Iacon and Kaon are indisputably the most important."

"The Autobot and Decepticon political centers?" she asked to be sure she'd interpreted the information correctly.

"Close; planetary capitol, in the case of Iacon, and first Decepticon city _and_ home to the Forge, in Kaon's case," Jazz explained. "It's a kind of subtle difference, but important because the 'Cons are using Iacon as their capitol as well, at least for the time being. They're also the two most heavily defended strongholds, which is why I'm hoping Thundercracker's codes to the Forge still work. How much do you know about Cybertronian cities, from Whiplash?"

"I should have access to everything he knew up to the moment of separation. It will take time to integrate the information to my databases, and longer to correlate it into a useful form," she explained. "Think about downloading the full contents of Soundwave's memory banks, and add a language barrier on top of it. Having and understanding are not quite the same thing."

"It might not have been something he looked into actively either," Jazz mused with a nod of understanding. Thirteen million years of information would be a massive processor ache at the best of times. "Cybertronian cities, the cores of them at least, are actually alive and sentient. It's part of what makes Kaon such a frightening prospect - a city-sized Decepticon that has access to use the Forge on itself at will. Primus knows what it's built into itself by now."

Lyzen's form began to melt into a less distinct biped, simplifying its demands as her processors went into shock, then scrambled to confirm what he'd just said. A full form shudder rippled across her before she pulled herself together and corrected her form.

It reminded Jazz more than slightly of Ezara's first encounters with the larger Cybertronian frames. The difference was that Ezara remained cowed on some level, even when she fought back, and he could already see Lyzen working out how to neutralize the size advantage.

"How much resistance will there be to sending one of my agents in to take Kaon over, rather like what happened to Whiplash?" she asked, most of her attention still on pulling information from external sources and assessing options. "Even _with_ the cruisers' complement I don't particularly like the casualty count I'm coming up with."

"It won't be easy," Jazz agreed. "And selling the idea to Prime without at least one attempt to take the city 'properly' will be hard. That's assuming you propose the idea as being something like what happened with 'Lash - if you sell it as an assassination, he'll never agree. He'd rather leave Kaon as a quarantine zone than do that, I guarantee it. Which _is_ an option for us - the cities can transform, but they usually can't transform into anything very mobile."

Lyzen hummed thoughtfully. "How is he likely to react if he found out after the fact that one of my agents decided the city was a good host?"

"He would be _very_ frustrated, especially if he knew that the decision was made after your arrival, but likely couldn't do anything. There's another factor that needs to be considered too - how quickly do they take over a host?"

"If it is done properly," she stressed the point. "Only long enough to extinguish the target's spark and integrate into its memory banks. For someone like you, perhaps a few nanokliks to work out where your spark is and get there. For someone like myself, upwards of half a klik as our spark is much more difficult to catch all of."

"My concern would be that Kaon might be able to overcome the Infiltrator," Jazz pointed out. "Not dead, or willing."

"Only if it's alive," she pointed out. "I wouldn't send an Infiltrator in to take it alive without a much better understanding of how strong its will is. Nothing we have encountered has ever been able to resist an Infiltrator, but I don't risk them lightly."

"I was more worried about counter-attacks - but it is a good tactic. You'll have to be careful about it though, however you go about it."

"Any intel you can give me on it would help that choice," she smiled slightly at him. "Knowing where the spark and primary memory banks are would be the most help, but anything about it is useful."

"I'll see what I can dig up," Jazz agreed. "Even if all it could do is short out the primary defenses when we try to take the city it would be a Primus-sent miracle ... or Lydrom-sent in this case," he added with a crooked grin.

"I'ent'ae sent," Lyzen offered with a warm, almost playful smile. "The world-goddess of Lydrom. The All-Mother. The Keeper of Sparks. The Guardian of Beasts. The Caller of War. She is our Mother, as Primus is your Creator. The only divinity from the past we still embrace."

"I didn't know you really had gods at all," he mused. "Do you have any records that She was there at first?" He asked her curiously.

Lyzen stilled, rolled the question around her processors for a bit, formulating the most accurate answer she could for something that was beyond ancient event to her.

"The Lydrom people knew of Her from when they were little more than beasts themselves, according to their histories. She was given many names over countless generations and places, with I'ent'ae being the one used by the group who built Delta Six. She has never objected to it that we can tell, and she _has_ objected to things from time to time," the powerful Tezita shuddered faintly. "So we take Her silence as acceptance. She is where new sparks come from, almost every one of them a Beast and many uncontrollable for generations."

She gave him a slight, apologetic smile for the rambling. "So yes, She was there long before we were. At least I expect She will be there long after the Tezita are gone."

"Fascinating," Jazz nodded slightly. "Humans have a much shakier grasp on whether or not their deities actually exist, though it's a bad topic to bring up most of the time. The more they have to take on faith, the more rabid they are about it, with pretty much any subject."

"Humph," she almost laughed with a flick of her chin. "Noted. I would not have thought such a short-lived race would bother with anything that could not be proven," she paused and considered him. "Though I suspect the same could be said of the Tezita from your perspective."

"To some extent," he chuckled. "Though they live a long time for creatures on this world. When death is such a common part of your existence though, you want answers for what happens afterwards... that, and it's a convenient means of ensuring your political power."

Lyzen cocked her head, working the statement around her processors for longer than either of them expected as she began to pull of data from her agents on Earth.

"I can't say that make much sense to me, but it's obviously true to them," she eventually decided. "Who on Cybertron do you want to see live, and die?"

"I'll start with the easy ones - I don't want casualties in the neutrals if it can be helped. Bad for PR. As for the 'Cons... this'll take a while," he chuckled, settling in to give her the lengthy list of targets and information he had on them.


	9. Freed From Duty

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_:  
_Rating_:  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary_

* * *

**Wanderer's Home arc 3 pt 09: Freed From Duty**

* * *

"What is she so excited about?" Prowl almost managed not to glare at Whippoorwill as he asked over the reports he was sharing with Optimus in the rec room. It was well before anyone sane was up and about, so it was just the two Autobots and Noitefel, who Prowl could not even begin to object to having close by, and the overly hyper flier on the far side of the room getting energon.

Optimus couldn't help the combination of rueful and understanding in his optics. "When the Tezita ship arrives today, she and Skjöldur will be released from guarding Ezara."

"Which means they'll be free to guard you," Prowl nodded slightly, more that fully aware of how little the concept thrilled him outside of freeing normal Autobots from the job. "We have quarters ready for them already... for what it's worth, it means you'll have one of the least obtrusive guards available," he offered.

"And another of the most," Optimus chuckled slightly as they watched Whippoorwill flash a shameless grin at Noitefel before slipping out of the rec room with three cubes of energon. "I suspect Ezara will be as happy to be rid of them as they are to no longer be assigned to her."

"She does outstrip their capabilities," Prowl acknowledged. "A less than optimum situation for everyone."

Optimus nodded. "How forward has Lyzen been in giving you the information you want on those coming?"

"Reasonably so," he decided after brief consideration. "She is decidedly more forthcoming than Jazz has ever been."

"To be honest, I'm not surprised," Optimus admitted. "Have you been having any particular problems with Intel lately?"

A tiny flicker of annoyance crossed Prowl's classic features and his door-wings twitched in much more visible irritation before he was composed again. The emotion wasn't lost on Prime, nor did he miss that Noitefel had a relatively strong distress response to the display. They were a potent tactical team, and he was sure that their personal relationship was a factor in that. How fast that had happened was unsettling. What should have taken a hundred vorn or more hadn't taken a local stellar cycle.

Prowl's words brought him out of his musing about just what had gone on behind closed doors.

"No. He has been cooperative, I believe. He continues to make very sure I do not have enough data to know how much he is really holding back," the tactician admitted while expressing his distaste for the situation.

"Has Whippoorwill been of assistance?" Optimus glanced towards Noitefel.

"I believe so," the Guard answered the implied order to speak. "She has always been my liaison with Intel and did know both Whiplash and Jazz before."

"Yes, Prime," Prowl inclined his head slightly. "She is very efficient at her duties, no matter how flighty she seems to be."

"Much like Jazz," Optimus smiled behind his mask.

"Yes, much like Jazz," Prowl acknowledged reluctantly.

"You know that however much he might be holding back, he won't hold back anything that he feels we need to know," Prime pointed out. "More than we're comfortable with, yes, and he may have different standards for what we need to know than we do, but that's typical Intel. He still holds to the Autobot code."

"I know he will tell us what he believes we should know," Prowl consented. "I am not entirely convinced that he, or many of his officers, are all that concerned with any code but their own." He raised a hand to forestall the imminent rebuttal. "I have no proof, Prime. Not even enough to open an official investigation. I only have a large collection of incompatible facts and reports with only 'Intel' as an explanation. I do not like making plans without all the facts possible."

"I understand," Optimus nodded. "It is possible that things will relax slightly with Whiplash out of active control of Intel. He has always been much more insular than either Moonlit or Jazz."

"That much is true," he inclined his head, a flicker of hope briefly crossing his optics. "He always pushed much harder for the less agreeable missions to be cleared as well."

"Prowl," Noitefel stepped closer and brushed his hand very lightly on the SIC's shoulder. "You have Whippoorwill now too. She is one of them, after all, but loyal to us. It is not a resource you had before."

Prowl nodded his acceptance of that as well, and was about to speak when the rec room door opened again to admit Mirage and Tarinash. The spy in preparation for an early morning patrol, the Tezita being sociable, most likely.

"Everything's looking quiet so far?" Mirage asked easily as he went over to get his ration of energon for the morning.

"Yes," Prowl answered in his habitual blandness, though his optics were very much on the pair, trying to discern their status with social programming that was simply not up to the task. It continued as the pair got their energon and left.

Prime gave his pre-programmed tacticians a bemused smile, not that they could see it, and answered what their programming couldn't. "They are somewhere between fooling around and short term lovers. It is unlikely to go further given Mirage's background."

The pair nodded their acceptance, filed that away in their not inconsiderable memory banks for future use, and moved on to the next topic as the Ark began to wake up for the day.

* * *

"How long have they been together?" Tarinash asked with absent curiosity after the rec room door had closed.

"Officially, they aren't," the spy gave him an amused look, still aware that the Tezita was making a rather pointed effort to demonstrate his subordinate rank by making his mech form a couple inches shorter than Mirage was. It was a gesture that the spy took every opportunity to show his appreciation of when they were not in view of others. "Noitefel began courting him shortly after he arrived on Earth two stellar cycles ago."

"Seeing'm off again, Tari?" Jazz's playful drawl when they came in sight of the entrance was enough to make the Tezita duck behind his lover in a completely Tower mech response to being 'caught' with a casual lover. "Aw, come on, I'm not that scary, am I?"

"No," Tarinash responded more calmly than his body language would indicate.

"Leave him be, Jazz," Mirage cast a mock-displeased look at his commanding officer before turning to slide his fingers along the flawlessly smooth, nearly frictionless surface of Tarinash's high cheeks and felt the Tezita lean into the contact with half-lidded optics. "I will see you after my patrol." Simple words in an even tone, yet to both of them it was a promise derived somewhere between playmate and lover.

Before his touch left, he felt a parting gift travel across the touch in the form of just what Tarinash thought they could do when the noble returned.

It was quite enough to cause Mirage's core temperature to rise sharply before he stepped back and turned to Jazz and his duty.

::Anything beyond the patrol planned for today?:: Mirage asked his CO silently.

::Not unless we run across something that needs doing,:: Jazz chuckled as they transformed and headed out. ::Looking forward to spending some quality time with the little guy?::

::You wouldn't be?:: Mirage chuckled silently. ::Just remember, he's basically a Tower mech. PDA and people being aware of it is something he's still getting more used to.::

::You're one to talk,:: Jazz laughed teasingly. ::How many vorn did it take you to stop vanishing when I tried to kiss you?::

::More than I care to think about,:: he admitted more easily than the words might indicate. ::Is Lyzen as affectionate as her Toe'Emirc?::

::Not even close,:: Jazz responded. ::She hasn't let any Autobot in further than is required to pass data packs.::

::Well, seems like she's typical Intel at least,:: Mirage joked as they lost sight of the Ark. ::So, what's wrong with you?::

::A 'Bot who has to do more than Intel,:: he responded with mock seriousness. ::I'm Morale Officer, the T.I.C. and the mech that keeps the rest of ya Intel types from the wrath of Prime.::

::As if that last one has anything to do with you making the rounds of everybody's berths,:: Mirage teased. ::Has there been any conversation about mechs who'll be serving as liaisons after the war's over?::

::A little on their side. Lyzen's TIC is likely going to be the head of Lydrom's Intel in this galaxy. Who's doing what on the military side of things is a little more sketchy, but there's some expectation that Ezara will lead the military here for the foreseeable future, at least a couple dozen vorn. After that, it's likely to be one of the ranking officers that can handle Cons well. I get the impression there is a definite plan, and a short list of candidates, but Lyzen wants to make sure those stationed here are comfortable with Cybertronians. Given their military views, they are not going to be all that common.::

::No, but I imagine they'd be glad to offload some of their civvies on us, once we have the resources to handle it. Or were you getting to that?:: Mirage asked him.

::That's a whole different conversation,:: Jazz couldn't help but laugh. ::They have to _ask_ the civvies who wants to come, then work out who's worth sending. It's not something any of them are all that used to. Even Ezara thinks it's a bizarre state of affairs to not just give orders to those who are best suited for it. But yes, they are definitely interested in sending a fair chunk of their civvie population to Cybertron, or anywhere else that's deemed viable and has enough 'responsible types' to keep an optic on them.::

::Do you know if anybody on _our_ end has started to consider the advantages and disadvantages? It'd be a good way to get the population up, but from the sound of things they're prone to outstripping resources unless they're careful.::

::I know Prime, Prowl and Noitefel are. From what I've gotten out of talkin' to Otalon and Farim, it's more a matter of the civvies not being prone to sacrifice for the greater good and put the 'unit' before themselves without a very strong leader to 'force' them to. They're just normal people and we're hearing about from them the POV of born, bred and trained professional military. I think we'll get along with them a lot better than they do.::

::I don't doubt it - I was thinking more the population issue,:: Mirage pointed out. ::Cybertron's population only increases when we make it do so. They reproduce like bio-species though.::

::Yes, they do,:: he agreed. ::That seems to be the main use of the 'adult supervision' they need. They won't create new sparks if they don't have the resources for the body, something the military types don't have to worry about when you get right down to it. They want to, they have the 'right' way to do it, but any of them that are nanite based don't actually need anything other than solid material and sunlight. Civvies have to construct a body. Seems they're good at scrounging the resources, but that's a separate issue. Add that to a lifespan that is rarely more than double what a military one's is and they'll adapt to any society we present to them. At least that's what I've been told.::

::Shouldn't be too different than things are now,:: Mirage agreed. ::After all - not like there's ever been a shortage of sparks, just the ability to commission a body. Can you share any of your private intel on the new arrivals we'll be having?::

Jazz chuckled. ::The ship arriving today has a dozen warriors on board, all those who are close to the Toe'Emirc and more loyal than most. Varin is one of Ezara's favored lovers, so expect a few shows. Some of her memories of him are, well, public, violent and very physical in a way she doesn't get with us. She doesn't know he's on board.::

::In other words, keep the Twins away from the LZ?:: Mirage smirked mentally. ::Unless we want to hold them back from joining in?::

::I was thinking of letting them play,:: Jazz chuckled darkly. ::But Prime vetoed that idea. Something about not intentionally antagonizing Ratchet any more than he has to. It would take them down a notch or six.::

::They could use it - of course, they'd probably end up joining in, and knowing them they'd think every scratch was worth it. How those two managed to be an artist and a con man before the War without killing somebody, I really don't know.::

::They didn't,:: Jazz said simply. ::Sunny came out of the arena in Kaon and Sides may not be as psycho, but he's done his share of killing to get what he wanted too. It may not be talked about, but back when Prowl and I first recruited them, it wasn't much of a secret either.::

::I wasn't really in a position to know either of them before then,:: Mirage pointed out. ::I only knew Sunstreaker by reputation, since he'd done work for other Tower mechs before.::

::And as an artist is how you would know him there,.:: Jazz's voice held a soft smile. ::A killer, the best in Kaon, is how they knew him and how I met him. I can't say even I understand how he balanced those two jobs, but he definitely did. He still paints, you know.::

::Oh, I know - everybody here knows, especially when Ezara got her paintjob. He couldn't stop talking about it,:: Mirage laughed, keeping an open and full sensor sweep on their surroundings. ::Surprised he didn't end up going 'Con in the end. Isn't the reason typically Sunny, though?::

::Oh yeah, though I know why they didn't go 'Con. I was there for it. When Megs blew up the arena to kill the Autobots there, he nearly killed them, and did kill a lot of bots they considered friends,:: his voice dropped. ::Ya might not think it, and it's not easy, but once Sunny lets you into his circle of allies, he'll do anything ta protect ya short of hurting his brother. Megatron killed a lot of those allies, and Sunny's never forgiven him. I'm not sure we would have kept them if he'd been taken out early on. These days, he's got it against pretty much all ov'n.::

::Always thought that crack about purple clashing with his paintjob was a little off, even for him,:: Mirage mused. ::It certainly makes a lot more sense to me. So - anything you need me to do, or to keep an eye out for, during the introductions?::

::Lyzen assured me that only the better socialized an adaptable will ever be seen off Lydrom, but it's always good to keep an optic open for the troublemakers. It won't be as obvious as our dear Sunshine, but it's not like they have any real experience to base their judgment of adaptability on either.::

::Right - I'll watch for them. I'll try to get a chance to talk to Ironhide too - he's probably talked to Corsa about them already.::

::Given how much time they spend together, I'd be shocked if he hasn't,:: Jazz laughed easily. ::Those two are made for each other, though I recommend staying clear when Chromia visits next. _Something_ is bound to blow up.::

::'Face or fight, either way,:: Mirage snorted. ::Tell me he's at least _mentioned_ this to Chromia, one way or the other?::

::No clue, though it isn't his style to not think of her. They've been together longer'n Prime and Elita-1.::

::They've been _alive_ longer than Prime and Elita-1, not a surprise,:: Mirage chuckled. ::I'm just glad my quarters aren't near his, I'd never get a peaceful recharge.::

::Oh, an you're getting any now?:: Jazz teased, utterly delighted with the good humor his friend was in. ::He hasn't spent an off-shift in his quarters yet.::

::My recharge is _very_ peaceful,:: Mirage purred, his engine revving a bit. ::He's delightfully eager to please, and very good at it.::

::If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to make me jealous,:: Jazz laughed deeply. ::He's really that good?::

::Enough I'm very pleased she wants nothing to do with him,:: Mirage said. ::I will miss his company when he returns home.::

::So have you gotten anything useful out of him yet?:: Jazz fell back onto semi-business.

::He doesn't have that much to offer, from anything besides a cultural perspective. No rank worth mentioning; his entire life was basically planned around him ending up as the mate of someone important.::

::Gotten any sense of how he takes it, or that he's out of the running for Ezara?::

::About as well as can be expected, but he's definitely hungry for attention and affection,:: Mirage explained. ::He's taking the rejection pretty well, though I think he was definitely looking at it as his last chance to make a _big_ impact.::

::Any idea what his prospects are back home now?:: Jazz asked thoughtfully, not at all keen about what he was being told.

::Not half as bad as you might be thinking,:: Mirage reassured him. ::He'll find a mate, I'm sure, and probably do better than he thinks. There's a lot that can be done through simple suggestion, without having to be manipulative.::

Jazz made a wordless sound of agreement on that. ::He's not very good at manipulating?::

::Oh, not in the ways you get _taught_ to,:: Mirage chuckled. ::At the berth-talk ways? He's much better than he thinks. Not that I'm letting him in on it.::

Jazz laughed deeply and long. ::You are enjoying this _far_ too much. You sure you aren't planning to keep him?::

::Primus, no!:: Mirage snorted. ::If I had that in mind, we wouldn't be 'facing! Not like this, at any rate. Entirely improper way to court him.::

::Sometimes you don't know somebody is worth courting until things are out of order,:: Jazz continued to snicker. ::Just how segregated is the civilian population?::

::Between what I know from Ezara and Tarinash, it seems to have the same general breakdown as ours, though with a couple extra categories as they separate the law-keepers and gladiators into distinct groups, but with less strict lines between them. Tarinash seems quite clear on the fact that a number of the civilian elite worked their way up from lower ranks and at least as far as he's concerned, there is no perceived difference between those born into the nobility and those who worked their way into it.::

::Mmm, Farim seems to have a different take on it, and Otalon's is closer to Farim's, though none are different enough to label as incorrect,:: Jazz chatted as they work the patrol route. ::From what I've gathered, there are four economic classes and three social classes that exist outside them, plus the Craft system that Olasia is part of.

::Which you'd like me to get Tarinash's thoughts on,:: Mirage worked out without even trying.

::Yap,:: Jazz grinned across the transmission. ::The underclass; those that require military handouts to survive, or only scrape by through illegal means.::

::Where Ezara started,:: Mirage checked.

::Yeah, on the illegal side of things. If she took handouts, it wasn't often. I expect she'd have stolen from the depots before she'd walk up to one::

::Somehow, I'm not surprised,:: Mirage chuckled. ::Even now she doesn't seem that inclined to accept handouts.::

::She'd much rather _take_,:: Jazz agreed. ::Though even with Otalon's insights I have no idea how much of that is her spark and core programming and how much is her upbringing. Anyway, the Working Poor are those who don't need handouts, or very rarely do, but don't have the resources to have younglings either. The Working Class are better off and can afford the occasional youngling. That group seems to have the biggest range and the largest numbers. Everyone who can afford to have young until you reach those where money isn't really an issue seem to fall under that heading.::

::It seems like that was true on Cybertron too,:: Mirage said hesitantly. ::There were those who found joining the Autobots an improvement to their pre-war lives, and a few like myself, but most I've met that had a civilian life seem to be like more like Seaspray or Windcharger. They had to work, but they didn't seem to worry about the basics either.::

::It's like that on Earth too, at least in the industrialized areas,:: Jazz agreed. ::There are always the very poor and very rich, whatever that might mean, but most folks fall in the middle somewhere. Lydrom's got a Crafter class too. It seems like they cross civilian-military lines, at least from what comprehendible info I've gotten out of Olasia. She talks like they're a family more important than spark-relations or even military command, which still doesn't make any sense to me, but it definitely does to her and Ezara, strangely enough. Five ranks, each comparable in social an economic status to a civilian one.::

::Tarinash was going on about that the other day. One of his caretakers was an Engineer, as in the craft, like Olasia,:: Mirage spoke up as the information made a bit more sense. ::He only indicated four ranks though.::

::Teo, a youngling that is in the craft but not yet in formal training. Awnwa are in general craft training. Kaem are training in a specialty. Vi have mastered at least one. I expect he left out the Toe'Vi, since it's more a political position than an actual rank.::

::Oh he knew that one,:: Mirage chuckled. ::They fall on the of 'folks with enough rank to be potential mates' list. He didn't think about the Teo.::

::That makes sense too,:: Jazz agreed as they fell silent for the next stretch of road.


	10. Place Your Bets

_Fandom:_ Transformers G1  
_Pairing:_ Mirage/Tarinash  
_Rating:_ NC-17 for M/F  
_Codes:_ Het, Slash, Gender Change  
_Summary:_

* * *

**Wanderer's Home arc 3: Ezara's Team: 11: Place Your Bets**

* * *

"So, are any of you entering the betting pools about the new sparks?" Smokescreen's voice was low, friendly and carried just enough hint of secrecy that the three Tezita at the table with Mirage, Jazz, Bluestreak, Bumblebee and Hound picked up that it wasn't entirely legal.

"What are the bets about?" Tarinash asked quietly, leaning forward a bit.

"Keep in mind, one of 'em's _mine_," Jazz reminded them all pointedly.

"It does improve the odds of one of them taking, and being sane enough to survive," Farim said thoughtfully. "Intel heritage do tend to mature, even mixed with a Beast."

"The _Si'Mir's_ heritage you mean," Otalon countered. "Choices are not the same as heritage."

The oldest Tezita there gave a small smirk to his competitor.

"Which one's going to be first," Smokescreen said, then paused as the Tezita actually looked thoughtful at that.

"Has she told you?" Otalon asked, optics locked on the defensive strategist and gambler.

"If she has, it's news to me," Jazz said. "I guess the Tezita don't think too much about talking this sort of thing over?"

"Not when the Si'Mir's involved," Tarinash shook his head slightly. "It's been her duty to tend to such details since Toe'Emirc Alpha, maybe earlier," he shot a glance at Otalon and Farim.

"That's when it went to that position," Farim said. "But even with Delta Six there was someone in charge of it for the warriors."

"One of the reasons I turned down the promotion to full military status," Otalon added,

"Given your rank and stake in one, if you wish a say, bring it up to her," Farim glanced at Jazz, his tone polite. "It may not be common for her to consult the parents, but this is far from a common situation."

"I'm not that worried about it, honestly," Jazz admitted. "Though I am wondering who she has in mind for taking care of Skywarp's, when the time comes."

"Anything more than praying to I'ent'ae that it will accept _someone_ on planet is going to be wishful thinking," Farim said quietly. "Fliers were notoriously difficult to foster, even when they were relatively common. A half-breed Beast flier? We'll be lucky if it doesn't decide to raise itself."

Despite the calm words, there wasn't a single Autobot that didn't pick up on just how uneasy all three of them were at that prospect.

"Its father might be a rebel, but he was a rebel who was notoriously easy to lead around by the nose," Hound pointed out.

"Most likely why she chose him," Tarinash chuckled softly.

"I'm going for looks," Otalon countered with a smirk. "She may be the Toe'Emirc, but she's still a young Beast. He's flashy, good looking and probably strutted for her."

"So just how much do you know about how things work?" Tarinash asked Smokescreen.

"Just enough to know when to keep out of her way," he joked. "And when to get in it," he added with a wink.

It earned him looks of skepticism about his self-preservation instincts from all three Tezita.

"He's talking about Ezara when she's in a partying mood," Jazz chuckled, shaking his head as he realized they weren't on the same subject. "She's very affectionate when she's in a good mood and there's a party going on."

A few understanding movements greeted the explanation.

"Anything you _want_ to know before we lay a few bets?" Farim asked with more than a bit of amusement.

"Well, how about what the problem is with Beasts that we keep hearing about?" Smokescreen asked. "We keep hearing it's a bad sign, but not why."

Otalon and Farim exchanged a glance, then the older one settled in to explain. "I'm fairly sure you've gathered by now that Beasts run on base programming to a far greater extent than any other type. Even those like Ezara, or Tekisra's pair, who are relatively well educated, socialized and _controlled_, still fall back on that base survival coding when things don't go a way they are ready for."

"Yeah, we're familiar with that," Jazz nodded.

"By statistics, ninety-eight percent of newborns under the current conditions won't survive their first five loten, about nine orn or eleven local solar cycles. Ninety percent of those are killed in the first few moments," he continued. "Current conditions being it's the first young of a military Beast spark parent under extreme stress. The only thing going for it, at least from Ezara's side, is that she hasn't killed any of her young before. That would make it much more likely she'd do it again."

"Why?" Jazz managed to make his processors and vocalizer working.

"Because they represent both power and resources that the adult will covet under duress," Farim explained. "It will make her stronger when she's expecting fight for her life."

"At this point, just what does the parent have to do with any of it? The spark's already been separated," Smokescreen pointed out. "Just pop it in a body and it oughta work."

"It's not quite that simple. Not when there is a choice about it." Tarinash spoke up, his mood muted and voice low. "Tezita may be born able to survive if they have to, but we don't do that to them. Parents need to impart skills during the birth, show the newborn how to form their first body, basic language skills, it's place in the social order and the desire to accept a caretaker until it matures."

"A Beast like these two don't actually _need_ a caretaker, but they're scary creatures if they raise themselves. Think about Ezara without any social or moral programming and you'll get the idea," Otalon added.

"Beyond all that, it simple tradition to have the parents there when the newborn comes alive," Farim flicked his chin in a shrug. "They invest a lot into the youngling after all."

"But if she's such a danger to it, why does _she_ need to be there?" Jazz rephrased the question. "Couldn't someone else, like Lyzen, do the data transfer?"

Tarinash chuckled lightly. "Somewhere between 'try and stop her' and it really is best for a newborn to have a parent as it's caretaker. It may be almost impossible for those two, but I doubt even Lyzen can override the bit of social programming that demands the parents _try_. Not even Mitrix and her successors have managed to dull it, much less take it out."

"Please try to understand, there has always been a mortality rate among newborns and we are born knowing death will come before we're ready," Farim said. "We have never had the issues you're facing where every spark is worth fighting to keep alive. The risk of a parent killing their newborn is part of what we are. It's always been there, and does exist with every spark-type. It's just most common in Beasts."

"But killing your own newborn? And how could it help her?" Smokescreen asked, still a little horrified by the idea alone. "I know she can get something from sparks, but she'd still be losing something."

"She'd gain her strength back much sooner, gain body mass from it, and back when the that programming formed it was extremely rare for anyone to take care of young other than their own," Farim attempted to explain. "A newborn is a serious drain on whoever it's caretaker is for at least ten wraa, almost twenty-five local stellar cycles. Sometimes much longer.

"It is a brutal but completely logical choice to take back the resources invested in it before it becomes a drain if it is unlikely one can survive the process of raising it but are likely to survive to breed under more favorable conditions if you kill it. It is all about the adult's odds of survival, and the calculations are purely instinctive."

"Like the calculations that have her make a new spark without planning on it?" Jazz asked carefully. "There're other factors here to keep in mind - something about her made her want a youngling enough that she did it without any planning or forethought. Not sure if that oughta be a factor or not."

From the looks the three exchanged, that tidbit was news to them.

"It wasn't something either of us expected the first time," Jazz explained.

"That does change things," Tarinash said cautiously, still working on assimilating the fact. "She'd be much less likely to kill it, though there is still a high probability."

"Her circumstances also changed between then and now," Farim added with a thoughtful tone. "When it was created, she was the only Tezita on this world. The drive to reproduce and ensure species survival would have been extraordinarily high. She is no longer alone, which will lessen the impact of those codes, though not completely."

"It adds factors, but it still comes down to the truth that happens with every new parent," Tarinash continued. "Not even they know how they'll react until it happens. There are warning signs in some cases of those extremely ill-suited to having young, but it's never a sure thing. Some of the most violently aggressive towards the young of others make doting caretakers of their own. Others with that same glitch will consistently attempt to kill anything that's not at least a young adult."

"The instinct factor makes it make more sense that they didn't see it coming," Jazz mused. "Is it this complicated to think it over for everybody on Lydrom?"

"No," Tarinash shook his head. "There are many factors here that just don't happen back home. The spark being half-alien and that it was created when she was the only Tezita around would never happen. Her combination of upbringing is even more unusual than mine, though not completely unknown. Similarly rare is that no one recognized the warnings that she felt such intense need to reproduce or what to do about it. A prospective first-time parent is almost never left alone so long either."

"This is a fairly good case study on how not to successfully reproduce," Farim summed it up.

"Well, _that's_ reassuring," Jazz sighed, shaking his head. "At least we've got a spare body in case it goes wrong."

"Have you worked out what will happen to it if it ends up in an Autobot frame?" Tarinash asked, his manner unusually serious.

"Cybertronian, not Autobot," Jazz corrected. "Though he'd probably end up joining, just on the basis of upbringing. We'll handle it like any other new spark in a new body - the tricky part will be the fact that he'll need to pick up more of the socialization than we're used to, so some help will still be welcome. Any input from the Si'Mir would be welcome," he added, sure she was listening in.

"It will be raised Cybertronian," Lyzen answered the implied request and stepped closer to the table and put a gentle hand on Jazz's shoulder. "Don't let the odds get to you," she smiled down at him. "So just what are the betting pools going today?"

"All of 'em, or just the ones you'd be allowed into?" Smokescreen asked her easily.

"Everything," she grinned at him, leaning in to rest her hip on the table edge. "I'm curious what you think I have an unfair advantage in."

"Well, when they're born and who's born first, mostly," he chuckled. "I mean... right now, that is kinda your job. The parts about names and gender are more up in the air, which frame they'll take to, if you'll get a flyer or Intel out of either of 'em, who the caretaker will be, uhm..." He glanced at Jazz, realizing that the next few items on the lineup might be a _little_ touchy to bring up in front of him. "Some others... uhm... related to the recent conversation..."

"Standard military bets," Tarinash offered helpfully.

Lyzen nodded slightly. "What are the bets on each right now?"

"I'm going to check in on Tonen," Jazz said as he stood, vacating the room a little quicker than usual.

"It's just such a strange concept for us, it doesn't really seem real," Smokescreen admitted. "I mean... _we've_ never had anything like that happen, at least. And most of the bets are against anything really bad happening to them."

"For fear of Jazz, or hope for the best?" Otalon asked with real curiosity. "And a betting pool, or odds-based payout?"

"Betting pool - nobody wants to be around when I'm setting odds and spreads," Smokescreen grinned.

"Besides," Hound snorted, "he's usually the only one who wins anything. Him and Sideswipe."

"Hey, he's got a good calculator in there too," Smokescreen shrugged slightly. "And it's not for fear of Jazz, just hard to believe anything bad'll really happen."

"Jazz doesn't have quite the same rights among Autobots that I do for us," Lyzen added with a quiet but easy tone before focusing on Smokescreen. "I'm in for a few," her look was downright playful. "Tezita frame for both, both will survive, she will try to kill Skywarp's, Jazz's is Intel, Skywarp's a flier."

"Any bets on gender?" He asked her. "And how much are you looking to put down?"

"Gender won't be known for at least ten wraa, over twenty-two local years, possibly as long as a hundred wraa," she flicked her chin in a negative. "I'm unlikely to be here to collect if I'm right. Five chips on each bet."

"Why would it take that long to figure out?" Smokescreen asked, clearly startled by the idea.

"Because it takes that long to mature to the point it's detectable," she looked at him with a touch of amusement. "We refer to newborns and younglings as 'it' because they are. The coding that produces gender assignments don't activate until they are nearly adults. It can't be determined earlier because we all carry the code for both and for some it never activates."

"Slag it, there goes that one," he muttered. "Hate finding out a bet's _completely_ off."

Lyzen cocked her head slightly at him. "Given some bets I've heard about have timeframes in the thousands of vorn, I'm not sure why it would be. Just ask the Lydrom liaison about it in four and a half metacycles. Believe me, it will be news everyone keeps tabs on."

"It'll work for some of 'em, but a lot of them were expecting it to be short term when they made the bets - going to have to check which of them want out because of the timespan now, if I want to keep my reputation," he explained.

"Understood," she gave a short nod, then walked over to Tarinash and whispered something to him that made him straiten and blink in surprise, then look over his shoulder at her in grateful adoration. "You have better sense than you think," she patted his shoulder before walking away.

"What was that about?" Smokescreen asked him once she was gone.

Tarinash squirmed a bit before shaking his head. "Nothing important. I just asked permission for a project to keep me occupied."

"I thought you were a civvie - close to it, at least," Smokescreen grinned. "Really Intel or something?"

A bewildered look crossed Tarinash face for a moment while Otalon and Farim snickered.

"Civilian fostered military never quite loose the tendency to look at the Si'Mir as their creator," Otalon explained with an amused grin for the youngest of them. "It's polite to ask, especially when resources are thin."

"Asking about?" He chuckled, earning a highly displeased look from the Tezita in question. "Or should we start another pool?"

"Unless it blows up, it's not your business," Tarinash snapped with a rumble as his nanites mimicked the sound of a fragged-off Sunstreaker as he stood. "Start one if it amuses you," his tone leveled out before he turned to leave. "Just don't let me catch you at it."

Everyone watched him sweep out of the room in as close to a stalk as his upbringing would allow, but it was the bemused expressions on both Otalon and Farim that caught Smokescreen's attention when he brought it back to the table just in time for the pair to exchange a low chuckle of understanding.

"Guess I hit a raw circuit," Smokescreen chuckled. "You know anything about it?" He asked Mirage.

"I can guess - but I can say for sure you're being a world-class aft about it," the Intel operative said bluntly.

::You okay?:: He asked, transmitting to Tarinash.

::Yes,:: his response was immediate, a bit subdued and uneasy. ::It was just unsettling. Thank you for asking,:: his tone warmed a bit.

::Don't worry about it. I know how it can be,;: Mirage reassured him.

"For what?" Smokescreen demanded with a bit of a scowl that encompassed all three mechs that seemed to know what was up.

"Smokescreen," Farim's even voice stopped him from continuing. "Whatever he asked permission to do, I'm sure you'll work it out. Just don't _tease_ the youngling about it."

"Youngling?" the Datsun raised an optic ridge.

"Not technically, but he _is_ barely older than Ezara," Farim explained. "You've also managed to get the strongest reaction any of us have seen out of him yet."

"Telling him not to razz a Tower mech is the best way to get it to happen," Mirage pointed out. "Whatever it is, it's either delicate enough, or secret enough, that he thought he should talk to the Si'Mir, and she wanted to give him her answer in relative privacy. So I'd say that it's simply wise to not probe too deeply, just given that."

"Okay, back to the two new sparks we have in storage," Smokescreen brought the topic back to more comfortable places, though his processor was going full speed on working out what Tarinash was up to.

* * *

It didn't take Mirage long to find Tarinash after he'd extracted himself from the table. He hadn't been upset enough to suppress Teletraan-1's tracking of him to his quarters.

A polite knock was quickly answered, and the Tezita's expression shifted almost immediately from carefully neutral to a shy but warm smile in greeting before he stepped aside and motioned Mirage to come in if he wanted to.

"For what it's worth, Farim and Otalon have tried convincing Smoke to lay off," Mirage told him as the door closed behind him. He took the opportunity to look around the room. It was no surprise that it was still mostly the default space; they hadn't been on Earth long, or had a ship large enough to bring many personal effects, but it had begun to show Tarinash's personality a bit with deep maroon paint, much more elaborate berth material and a handful of small objects from home scattered about.

"I'm sure they did," he responded easily and motioned for Mirage to make himself comfortable while he poured two fine glasses of shimmering white high grade. "The bet is one I'm not surprised at. It is just not _discussed_ in front of those involved."

"Discretion isn't in the vocabulary of entirely too many of them," Mirage offered. "If you wanted, you could talk to Prime about it, teach him a bit of a lesson. Might get his tailpipe in a twist over it though."

"No," Tarinash flicked his chin up in a quick denial and stepped close to hand the noble one of the glasses with a warm but chaste kiss. "No need. He was not that offensive. My self-control is not what it should be," he murmured, his optics flicking downwards.

"It's all right - I understand entirely," Mirage smiled, taking a sip and drawing him to sit down on the couch next to him. He didn't hide the smile that having his lover snuggle against him caused. "Can you tell me what it was about?"

"Yes, well..." he ducked his head, uncertain and uneasy, before he steadied his nerves and looked up to meet Mirage's gaze. "I'd rather not, just yet. It's ... it's for you."

"Is it getting more serious than just playing around?" Mirage asked him, wrapping an arm lightly around his back.

"It could be," Tarinash said hesitantly, though he was fairly relaxed in Mirage's arms and against his frame. He liked being there. It felt good, protected, cared for. "This isn't a normal situation for either of us."

"No, it isn't," Mirage admitted. "Not that my 'normal' really exists anymore... I don't even know if there are any survivors of my House, though at least now I could ask some of the other Returners if any of their sparks are still intact."

"A lineage only needs one to be built, or rebuilt," he gave a shy smile. "It doesn't seem like any other House will be in much better a state than yours."

"They won't be, I'm quite sure," Mirage nodded slightly. "It's just... a traditional thing," he admitted. "How complicated are the politics among wealthy, noble Houses for the Tezita? And just how ingrained is dealing with it?"

Tarinash snuggled a bit more against him, resting his head on Mirage's shoulder and draping an arm across his hips. "It's not as complicated as it was on Cybertron. Our recorded history is much longer, but the military only really began to tolerate civilians with any kind of significant power with Toe'Emirc Quin Parenteen of the Karpai. He was from a merchant family and brought that with him. He also began the tradition of fostering military like me with them to encourage loyalty and have a few reliable sources of information.

"Toe'Emirc Wimash Pyre of the Rendrin kept a sharp optic on their growing importance, but didn't actually hinter anyone who didn't try to develop weapons. Carin Rawlind of the Vistra was born military, but a Scientist. He tolerated us well. Ezara Onyan'a wasn't in power long enough to worry about us much, but she doesn't seem to object. Ryzia Koisi of the Polidrin has begun to put restrictions on the use of civilian wealth, though it doesn't affect us much yet.

"Most of the politics are a combination of the military, as the only government example we had, and the codes the various merchant houses developed over prior generations."

"While Cybertron's Tower politics are second only to what they have going on here on Earth, from what I've seen," Mirage chuckled lowly. "You're lucky, really. Since there usually aren't more than a handful of potential heirs to any given lineage, and only so many lineages within any given House, it makes it much more important what happens with every individual when they start looking for long-term partners. By House rules, before I start anything like that, I should confer with my commissioner, as well as the other heads of the House," he explained. "And even if I know that I'm likely the only one left, it's hard to accept that I've got that sort of... I _guess_ you'd call it freedom."

A light shiver passed through Tarinash's frame at the thought. "I'd call it frighteningly lonely," he murmured. "Would you be expected to only have one bonded?"

"There's a difference between what's expected, and what's practical, typically," Mirage chuckled lowly. "Adding additional bonds complicates things greatly, though there are typically long-term, favored lovers and partners for all involved, you just have to take a little care with that so you don't end up causing any serious trouble."

Tarinash nodded against his shoulder. "We have that too. Bonds are usually for political or economic gain, so most will find someone they _like_ to share their berth. It's strongly discouraged before your bonded. It makes 'selling' you as a good bonded much harder, since a prospective mate has to contend with an established partner, even if they are not official. It does make it more difficult to command your new household when everyone knows you were not there first and between you and the lover, you are likely to loose behind closed doors."

"Oh, I understand that," Mirage nodded slightly. "It's not an uncommon concern back home either, though it's a bit less of one. For one thing, bonded Tower mechs don't always even share the same household, necessarily."

Tarinash thought about that, a low humm rumbling through systems that were more Cybertronian-like by the day.

"The way you have the next generation fits in too, I think," he eventually decided. "You could have your young with no more than messages between you. For us, both really do have to be there and at least not fight it. It is assumed that whoever rules the household are the parents, no matter what the actual spark-lineage is. It would be greatly frowned on not to live with your bonded and at least _look_ like you are head of the household with them."

"That makes sense," Mirage agreed. "When all you need on Cybertron is to have the agreement and involve yourself in the creation of the body, to some extent. Even that can be strictly financial, and fairly often is."

Tarinash hummed again, the now deeper purr of his pseudo-engine setting Mirage's sensory net alight with pleasurable signals.

"Were you one who wanted young, eventually?" he asked softly, his processors only half on the subject now.

"Mmm ... maybe, though I haven't thought about it too much. Of course, that wouldn't stop us from practicing," he winked, running his fingers along Tarinash's chest, offering mental contact to him. The gentle sensuality of his lover's entrance was enough to draw an audible groan from the noble.

Even when lips met his and light hands slid down his chest, Mirage couldn't quite make out Tarinash's form in the mindscape.

~Do you want to try something a little different?~ Tarinash spoke softly, nudging slightly at the parts of Mirage's mind that were marked as desires.

~In here? Certainly,~ Mirage replied, taking a moment to change the mindscape slightly, reworking it into a world more to his liking. ~You like to dance, don't you?~

~Yes,~ he purred deeply, setting the environment itself alight with desire as he caught when his lover was thinking of and drew away to form a solid body. Still small and lithe compared to Mirage's, but now with the curves of a female in the prime of her fertile years. Soft deep blue fur was offset by shimmering silver and gold that highlighted her soft curves, wide hips suited for bearing young and full breasts to feed them.

"Mmm ... you're really into the idea of younglings, aren't you?" Mirage rumbled, adopting his own Tezita form, wearing a simple pair of slacks and a finely embroidered silk vest. "Entertain me, my dear," he purred.

"It _is_ what I was raised to expect," Tarinash's feminine voice was soft, light and soothing in a mixture of desire and good humor. She stepped back lightly, toes down first before twisting into a slow spin as exotic dances from Cybertron mixed with erotic ones from Lydrom and Earth's into something both familiar and new to them both.

"We'll wait on that - for now, I'd rather just enjoy your company," Mirage purred, watching her move, the differing curves of her body, mentally exploring the differences between a male form and a female one from the same mind with the same intent. He had to admit, Tarinash made both look good.

The effort he was putting into the dance was enticing too. This was no half-sparked effort to amuse or entice him. No, Tarinash no doubt loved this, the effect on spectators a secondary fact.

Absently he wondered how many dances Tarinash knew how to perform with his real body. Just how versatile was that military frame when it came to less militant pursuits. Ezara could dance, but it was nothing like this. She wasn't this soft.

Mirage blinked, surprised that his lover was suddenly so close to him.

She leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Trust me?"

"To do what?" He asked, trying to glance for any sign, stiffening slightly when he noticed the silk binding in her hands. "Only _very_ lightly," he warned her.

"I _couldn't_ hurt you," Tarinash kissed his jaw hinge and gently coaxed his hands behind his back. The binding was light, as instructed. Far more about appearance than actual effect Mirage realized quickly. Even if it hadn't been his mindscape, or he had no training, he could easily escape well before panic set in.

"You couldn't, but I could, not necessarily with meaning to do it," Mirage explained gently, watching as the dance began again, the movements much more erotic as Tarinash put a bit more effort into arousing him.

"Femininity agrees with you," Mirage rumbled as he settled into enjoying the display and anticipate what his lover had planned that involved keeping his hands still.

Pride and the warmth of a complement well received ripped through the space and found itself expressed in the strong sensuality of the dance as Tarinash fondled her breasts, cupping and smoothing them in a demonstration who's origins were lost on both of them. It didn't stop it from affecting them, however, and Tarinash bit back a whimper at her own desire to forget the dance, foreplay and everything else and simply jump her lover.

Mirage was doing a better job of keeping control, and grinned as he watched his partner's obvious desire.

"It looks like you're the one who should be tied up," he teased.

A flash of desire, hot enough it nearly burned and caused Mirage's breath to catch, hit him before anything else. Tarinash's respiration quickened, the aching between her legs was enough to demand attention.

With a last twist she knelt in front of Mirage, her knees spread wide as she arched back, resting her shoulders on the ground and slowly slid her fingers into the blood-swollen folds of her female sex with a heady, wanton moan of raw need.

Mirage caught onto the game fairly quickly, licking his lips hungrily as his swollen shaft throbbed.

"How long do you want me to hold back?" He asked with a throaty growl.

Fingers stroked and swirled within the folds of a sex swollen and slick, and Tarinash trembled, moaning, before she managed to find enough voice to respond.

"As long as you can," came out as two fingers pressed into her body, causing it to jerk slightly.

"You made it too easy, tying me up before you started," Mirage teased. "I think you need a challenge too though, don't you?"

A ragged breath and low whimper was as much response as Tarinash could organize when her body trembled, already on the verge of overload.

"Every time you overload, before I go too far," Mirage rumbled heatedly, enjoying the game and setting himself to last a long time while enjoying every moment of denial. "I get to pick one new condition or kink for later. Not necessarily next time, but later," he purred.

Tarinash's breath hitched and she shuddered. "Yes," was all she managed to say in agreeing to the game before her form stiffened with a hitching sound that was nearly a sob. Her frame shuddered with the effort to drag enough oxygen into her lungs, but it was the way her sex tried to pull in a phallus that wasn't there that made Mirage draw a breath himself. He knew what it felt like, that wet, slick heat that surrounded him, trying to draw him deeper when he'd already hilted inside a lover's body.

Slowly Tarinash relaxed, then drew herself upright to met Mirage's bright blue eyes and licked her lips as she drawled forward to kiss him with all the fierce heat he drew out of her so easily. "So," she purred throatily as the kiss ended. "I may pleasure myself any way I wish under this deal, until you free yourself?"

"As long as you're actually trying," Mirage murmured, licking his lips as he took in the pleasure-flushed and still hungry visage before him. "No fair not really trying." He fought the urge to reach out with his foot for some contact, strong as it was.

"Oh, I will be," she grinned at him, lust and mischievousness warring for dominance on the elegantly formed face. She reached forward to slide her fingers down his chest and leaned close to whisper in his ear. "Tell me a fantasy, Mirage, and maybe you'll see it."

"Oh, but if I tell you fantasies, you'll know what to expect," Mirage purred, turning for a light kiss. "Why don't I start with what I'm going to do to you after my patience gives out?" He suggested instead, licking his lips hungrily. "About how I'm going to pin you down and put you in your place?"

The Tezita shivered at the promise in those words and captured her lover's mouth in a kiss hot enough to melt them both. Eventually she drew her hands away from his face and reluctantly broke their contact. "And just what will you do, trying to put me in my place?" she cooed as she shifted, straddling his thigh and kissing her way along his jaw as she rubbed her sex shamelessly against him.

"That depends on just what your place should be, doesn't it?" Mirage teased, his breath coming more quickly as he tried to ratchet down his responses. "I think I'm going to have to make sure you know that I'm the one in charge though. Probably have to tie _you_ down to make sure you know this is at _my_ choice," he teased, tugging at his bonds very lightly. "Then make you suffer just as badly as you're making me, of course."

Another shiver passed down Tarinash's supple frame, not all of it from the promise of what was to come.

"I know what place I _want_," her voice trembled in desire that had little to do with arousal. Her lips moved down to his throat, her hands exploring the hard muscle under short, soft fur of Mirage's chest and her hips working with a mind of their own to bring her to another overload against the slick, soft fur of his thigh. "I didn't think she'd approve of you, knowing what I want."

Her head came up to steal another long, blissful kiss that swallowed several moans. "She did though."

"What _do_ you want?" Mirage asked breathlessly, not sure if an overload of his own would end their game if she was the one who caused it.

Bright blue eyes met his as Tarinash stilled herself with effort. She stroked his jaw with gentle fingers and kissed him lightly. "A lover for a mate and a home full of descendants," she purred in all seriousness.

"That's going to be quite some time off, even if it _is_ possible," Mirage warned her seriously. "Between the war, the tech issues, and financial ones," he explained.

"I know," she kissed him lightly. "I'm young enough to have time."

"Mmm ... just don't pull the stunt that Ezara did, and I think we'll be fine, as long as nothing goes wrong before the war's over."

"The war will be over before her newborns are grown," Tarinash leaned forward to kiss him again, slowly deepening the kiss to the full passion before they'd been forced to think about serious things. "You won't need to fight it soon."

"Here's hoping," he agreed, returning the kiss. "Now... I believe you were trying to tease me to the breaking point?"

"Was I?" Tarinash snickered and rocked her hips, drawing a shivering moan from her throat. "I was trying to get myself off again," she whispered before turning her attention to his throat and her hands to exploring his abs. "You'll _know_ when I'm trying to break your resistance."

"Sounds like you'll enjoy it immensely," he purred into a moan. "I think I left off somewhere around tying you down and teasing you?"

"I intend to," she moaned, her body on the verge of trembling again. "I think I'll enjoy your revenge just as much," she said breathily against his throat between kisses.

"I'm sure you will," he growled with fake menace, 'cheating' a little by disengaging what his processor was telling him his nose would be doing to his biological form right now. "Especially when I sink my claws into your hips and pound you right into the mattress like the hungry little thing you are."

The shudder that passed through Tarinash's body had little to do with the pleasure shooting through her body from between her legs. She nipped at his throat, moaning as her body shuttered. She pressed against him as tightly as she could, her hips picking up the pace. Her hands found their way to his back, holding him against her tightly as she trembled right on the edge of overload.

"Tell me..." she gasped. "Please. What you'll do to me."

"When I give out?" Mirage teased her. "I'm going to make you beg, pretty. Just what should I make you beg _for_ though?" He asked, pretending to consider the options as Tarinash cried out against his throat in overload, her body stiff and jerking as the pleasure coursed through her mind and body. "Maybe I'll make you plead to have me inside you? Or maybe I'll just keep going until you're begging me to stop?"

"I ... I'd never ... want you to stop," Tarinash panted through the shock-tremors as she gradually calmed down a bit, still clinging to him tightly, her thigh pinning his hard penis against his lower abs. "To feel you deep inside me, filling me with each strong thrust," she murmured and began to lick his throat and up to his jaw. "Marking me as yours for anyone who cares to look."

I've got other ways to do that, if you wanted me to," Mirage grinned. "Of course, I can do things in here that I wouldn't inside - presents all sorts of interesting options, doesn't it?" He purred, claiming a kiss when she was near his lips.

The contact, when it finally broke, left them both panting for breath and Mirage struggling with himself to keep the game going.

"Yes it does," she rumbled with a gentle push to guide him to his back on the cushions. Another kiss swallowed the moans of touch and need. "For now, willing to put that tongue of yours to a more pleasurable use?"

"Gladly," he rumbled, laying back and licking his lips as he watched her shift her hips over his head while she kissed her way down his chest. "Can't promise how my skills are, but we'll see."

Her short tail flicked above his eyes before he focused on sliding his tongue along the slick, engorged folds of her sex while he shifted to get a little more comfortable with his arms under him.

He was careful not to dislodge the light bindings on his wrists, focusing his attention on her swollen lips, spreading her folds to taste her juices, his shaft throbbing but more easily managed like this, letting him delve deeply into her sex. The moans and trembles above him, and the flicking caresses of her feathery-haired tail across his ears, made it ever so much harder to keep from thrusting up when her mouth came close to the bare skin aching for the contact.

"Not fair," he mock-protested into her pussy, ploughing his tongue deep into her, flicking it forward against a mound of flesh that felt a little different.

"As hot as it makes me, sucking you off would be fair," Tarinash moaned as she drew one leg up against her shoulder to kiss and lick up and down his muscular thigh.

"Just give me a couple more kliks," he murmured, his sharp teeth against her flesh, his senses happily drowning in her arousal.

A soft laugh dissolved into a moan and a shudder. "I have other plans," she whispered against his inner knee as her slick flesh pulsed and twitched around his tongue.

He focused on his work, breathing shallowly, his breath hot against her sex as he ate her out, fighting the urge to free his hands and help her along with his fingers. Moans and gasps above him gave as much feedback on his progress as the twitching of the flesh around his lips and tongue.

Abruptly Tarinash stopped teasing him, her frame trembling and taunt as she pressed her head against his hip and her hand curled tightly around his aft. Her breath brushed over his erection in whimpers and grunts, her voice lost to making anything but those primal sounds.

Mirage trembled, nearly ready to overload but fighting to hold back for one more round. With the feel of sharp claws digging into his skin he nipped at the bit of hard flesh that seemed so much more sensitive than the rest and focused his glossa on it until she cried out, ever muscle in her body locking as she road out the overload and his continued to lick at her spasming sex.

"You don't need to worry about your skills," she purred deeply as she shifted, turning to pull him up to kneel before kissing him soundly.

"Mmm ... like to put on a good show," he rumbled, kissing her back just as heatedly. "What's up next?"

"Three overloads and my patience is thin," she kissed him again as she slipped onto his lap and pressed against his chest, then began to nibble down his jaw and neck. "Too empty for too long," she crooned, rubbing her pelvis against his and smiled at the shiver it caused. "Do try keep your hands to yourself ... what this does to me," she shivered just at the thought, then lifted her hips and guided his achingly hard erection into her body with a low, need-filled moan.

"Mmm ... does my overload end the game, or just when I get out of the rope?" He gasped, keeping his pelvis tight to try and hold back, his balls aching for release.

"Wh-when you get out," Tarinash managed between trembling gasps, his clawed fingers holding onto Mirage's back as something far more than just physical pleasure kicked in hard.

"You like... nnngh... being in charge, don't you?" Mirage panted, kissing her, balls twitching with need, circuits on edge in the real world.

Tarinash whimpered into the kiss, her body trembling and spasming around him. "Only...only as a game," she pressed her face against the crook of his neck, her hands coming up to work his shoulder blades as she struggled to hold off until he'd gone over the edge.

Hoping he might have the nerve to hold out a bit longer with some release, he gave up trying to hold off his overload, letting the massive surge pass through him with a roar. He was distantly aware of the gasping cry of raw ecstasy as his lover followed him into the intense overload that left them both dazed and barely on line for a moment.

Before Tarinash could really recover, Mirage was already aware again. He thought for a brief moment - then slipped his hands free and rolled over on top of Tarinash.

"Four's enough," he murmured, kissing her hungrily. Even only half coherent, Tarinash kissed back eagerly, spreading her legs and sliding them along his as she tightened the grip against his back to pull him tighter against him.

He held strong for a few minutes, taking the silk that had been bound around his wrists and tying her hands above her head.

"Going to enjoy having you to myself for a while," he rumbled hotly, nipping her neck.

"All yours, Mirage," she moaned and squirmed, trying to encourage him. "Want you."

"And I want you," he rumbled, nuzzling her neck, sliding down, licking her collarbone and breasts, fondling her slick, dripping sex with his fingers.

Tarinash whimpered and arched, spread her legs further apart and rocked into the touch as she panted. "Please..."

"Ah-ah - if you get to tease, so do I," he rumbled, sliding down further, licking between her legs, savoring her taste as he pressed two fingers into her body. Above him she mewed and gasped, struggling against the bindings on her wrists that were now secured to the floor. Her legs slid up his body, rubbing against his sides, encouraging him to do anything that pleased him.

He turned her over, slipping his head out from between her legs as he lifted her short tail, kissing the firm globes of her ass as he finger-fucked her pussy, slipping down to lick the back of her knee playfully.

The twitching half moan, half laugh ended in a hard gasp when his fingers brushed against a slightly rough spot deep inside her pussy and it spasmed hard around his fingers. "Please ... want you," Tarinash begged shamelessly as her body quivered.

"Mmm... one of these times, I'm going to really torment you," he purred, sliding up, burying himself in her slick, hungry sex with a growl as he quickly started thrusting as hard as he could. He was rewarded by a near-constant series of mews, whimpers and groans of pleasure as his lover rocked into his thrusts and milked his cock eagerly.

He'd definitely have to remember this game.


	11. Desperate Acts

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: None  
_Rating_: PG-13 for Violence  
_Codes_: Death, Violence  
_Summary_: Megatron is not the fool many on both sides make him out to be. It is the price of high rank to make the tough choices, to find a victory in a situation that has no good options.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 3 pt 11: Desperate Acts**

* * *

"Prime!" Prowl called out from his monitoring station. "We have a transmission from Megatron. He's calling for Ezara," he explained.

Optimus frowned, already sure this was the start of a very bad day, and strode up behind his SIC. "What do you want, Megatron?"

"I have already said as much, Prime," Megatron responded arrogantly. "I wish to speak with Toe'Emirc Ezara Onyan'a of the Vistra."

"About what?" he insisted on knowing.

"A matter of official business between the Vistra and the Decepticons," Megatron told him bluntly. "Related to the capture of my warriors and their other acts of war against us."

He could hear the snickers of both Autobots and Tezita in the room, and was sure Megatron could hear it too.

::I'll talk to him,:: Ezara said over an open comm as she walked into the room with Lyzen and Corsa, likely having come from training given both warriors were in full armor and still had their weapons.

"I see having your full staff agrees with you," Megatron said approvingly. "A pity that such a great warrior chose to side with such a group of weaklings."

"You had your chance at my loyalty. Twice, in fact," she reminded him evenly as she settled into a bit of an arrogant stance with a sword over her right shoulder and her weight on her left hip. "So are you declaring war on us?"

"Actually, I have contacted you to present a challenge. Toe'Emirc Ezara Onyan'a, I challenge you to battle. If I win, you will return your Cybertronian captives and converts to me for discipline, and the Tezita will leave this galaxy, allowing us to settle our own internal affairs."

"I will not turn over those who choose to stay with me, namely Skywarp and Thundercracker," she told him evenly, aware of the blue Seeker's arrival in the room, though she didn't acknowledge him. "For Starscream, you'll have to take it up with Prime. He's claimed asylum with the Autobots, not Vistra."

Megatron scowled.

"I will return my prisoners," Ezara continued before Megatron could object. "We will leave when my oath to Prime is paid, or when the battle is over, if he agrees to wave my oath if I loose," she shifted to look directly at Optimus. "Under the law, you do have the right to veto any challenge that will directly affect a prior oath or honor-debt owed to you. This would."

"Agreed - and since you've only presented terms for the Tezita, I can think of no reason why I should accept this challenge," Optimus pointed out.

"Consider, Prime," Megatron warned him. "What you've told me in the past about choosing allies carefully. As for the terms if I should lose - it is Ezara's challenge to make."

"If I win," she met his gaze squarely. "The Decepticons will kneel to me as their new Lord."

"If you win, I will hardly be in a position to care," Megatron told her.

Ezara raised an optic ridge. "Then you expect one of us to die today. A challenge to permanent deactivation."

"Would either of our forces accept anything less?" He replied entirely too calmly. "I know that your restrictions will apply to your replacement as well as they would to you."

"It will," she confirmed. "Mine would accept any terms I agreed to. Yours will barely accept this even with you gone. Weapon restrictions?"

"Only that we can carry them ourselves," he said simply. "Beyond that - whatever we are capable of. Finally testing our full abilities against each other."

Ezara concerned his statement and words for a lingering moment. "Only what we bring onto the challenge field ourselves. What we begin with."

Megatron nodded his acceptance and she turned to Prime. "Will you release me from my oath if I loose?"

"You know that Megatron has some scheme to make this an unfair fight," he told her quietly.

"Given how unfair the fight is to begin with, he needs it," she pointed out. "But yes, I expect him to try and make this as uneven in his favor as possible. It's not like I'm going to do any different."

"Your _life_ is on the line here," he offered. "If you die, what happens with the rest of your people? There would be no resolution of the war that you're in the middle of."

Ezara gave him a surprised look. "Of course there will. There is every probability that Ryzia will inherit if I die. Even if he doesn't, whoever does will face the challenge and it will sort out. The only reason it didn't happen normally with me is because Rawlind managed to trigger enough of my flight responses to get me to run instead. It's not going to happen again, with me or another."

"Consider the distances involved," Optimus countered. "If you lose - and remember how close _Starscream_ came to killing you before you came to us - they won't have anything to support them within light years."

"Let us worry about our own faction," Lyzen said quietly, but the firmness in her tone was a warning that he was going where he shouldn't in a serious way.

"All right," Optimus granted. "This was going to happen either way ... if necessary, you're free from your oath to me."

"In one joor at the following coordinates," Megatron sent the field he had chosen. "We will be there."

"As will we," Ezara inclined her head slightly to an opponent of equivalent rank and the connection closed.

"The non-coms?" Lyzen glanced at her.

"Only if they wish to watch," Ezara made a motion of indifference, though she was anything but. She _wanted_ to show off for them, and to see her suitor's reactions to her at her most violent, to her killing for the crowd and future and the simple truth that she _could_.

* * *

Megatron and those Decepticons present looked up when a dozen bogies appeared on their radar. There were far more in number than he wanted but it would not do to have the Tezita think he was trying to avoid the legality of the challenge.

Acid Storm was the first to see them, followed quickly by his trinemates. "Skyfire, the Aerialbots, Whippoorwill, Skjöldur and four Tezitan shuttles," he reported.

"As expected," Megatron nodded. "Soundwave - everything is in place?"

"As you have commanded, Lord Megatron," he intoned.

"Good. Then it is time to end this, on our terms."

The Decepticons fell silent as the Aerialbots, Whippoorwill and Skjöldur transformed and landed, finding a place to sit on the hastily modified island. Skyfire joined them after discharging Optimus Prime, Crashcourse, Noitefel, Jazz, Ironhide and Ratchet. While normal to focus on the greatest threat, the fact that Megatron looked significantly _different_, much more like he did near the beginning of the war, drew attention as well.

::Are you receiving everything you wish to?:: Noitefel contacted Prowl silently as he watched in fascination as the Tezita serving as shuttles deposited their passengers by landing and melting away to form their normal bodies.

::Yes. Thank you.:: the reply was smooth and even, but still gave Noitefel a private smile for the contact. ::It seems Megatron has several upgrades for this battle.::

::No surprise there.::

"It seems you've got no shortage of observers," Megatron said as Ezara stepped forward, armed and armored with the glittering crystal that had protected every Toe'Emirc since Singer had created it for Listin thirteen generations ago. "I have brought the forces that I could spare to observe."

"Such challenges should be watched by all who will be affected," she said simply, taking in the gathered Decepticons. Her gaze lingered on Sunstorm and Soundwave, before falling on Shockwave's SIC after noting his absence.

"I am Firestorm, Shockwave's second in command," the lean, red-painted mech said politely, stepping forward and inclining his head respectfully. "He sends his regrets, but was unable to leave Cybertron. I have been sent in his stead, along with Wreakord," he explained, indicating the camera-bodied mech who was turning to capture the entire scene in his lens' view. "We are broadcasting back to Cybertron for the Decepticon forces to observe the battle."

Ezara inclined her head in acceptance of the explanation and turned to Megatron.

"A one-again-one fight to permanent deactivation," her voice was strong as she followed her traditions and laid out the terms for all to hear. "Weapons are limited to what we bring into the battle. If Megatron wins, the Tezita will leave this galaxy. If Ezara does, the Decepticons will kneel to her as their Lord."

"Agreed," Megatron nodded, ignoring the uneasy way several Decepticons shifted to hear what was at stake. It didn't matter - if this battle didn't take place, the stakes were just as high. "No limits to tactics; this is to be a true test of our abilities."

The small smile that crept across her expression as she dropped into a neutral combat stance, ready to attack or defend, would have been meant to intimidate if she'd been a Con. Megatron knew her well enough to know it was simply the prospect of a truly challenging fight that put it there.

The intended intimidation was what her soldiers and officers had in mind as the taunting began. He knew as well as she did both their formative vorns were in an area, fighting for the crowds and killing for the simple ability to do so.

He focused hard to ignore them, dropping into a combat stance as well, heavy crystal shield in one hand and the mace she'd built for him in the other. He was grateful, now, for having tried her in physical combat before she'd left. He was just as grateful that he'd held back those times - he hoped she hadn't faced people with weapons like his often, and that he might have an advantage with the extra tricks he knew against sword fighters. He knew they were both aware of how many hundreds of thousands of vorns worth of arena combat over her, how many more tends of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands lives he'd ended in the arena and out of it in personal combat.

As they circled each other, taken each other's new measure - her improved condition and weapons, his far heavier armor and new alt mode - he privately conceded the only thing he didn't have on her was how many vorns worth of memories and tactical concepts she had from her predecessors.

With no credible warning, Ezara darted in, trying to get under his guard with a blade that glowed with energy far brighter than his set.

He knew she was expecting him to take the hit and counter quickly - which was why he twisted back behind it, stepping back, letting her thrust glance off the faceted surface of the shield. He kept it low, in case she went for his legs, but didn't meet with a counterattack.

"I thought you were supposed to be fast on your feet," he taunted her. "Do you really want your troops to see you stumbling around the field like this?"

"And yours just saw you retreat," she purred, mocking him back as she pressed forward again, still ready for a counterattack, or another step back.

Around them the Tezita were working themselves into a proper arena crowd, cheering and calling for blood. Pointers were called out to them both, the back of Megatron's processor realized in surprise.

He had to consider just what the pointers were; he knew he couldn't accept them blindly, that would be the height of insanity. But to reject them just as soundly as meant to lead him the wrong way would be just as foolish. Particularly Lyzen's voice, he knew - she was entirely too good at manipulating people, whether she knew them or not. So far it was general comments, encouraging them to attack, how to disarm a weapon or shield - things he already knew how to do better than they probably did.

"You'd know all about your forces watching you retreat, wouldn't you?" He countered, trying to keep her off balance, sidestepping rather than moving back, feinting with the mace occasionally to keep her from having truly unfettered movement. "How long have you been running? I'm surprised they _can_ trust you, after you spent so long running from a civilian!"

"There are advantages to being considered a living god," Ezara chuckled low in her body, the rumble of smug amusement clear as she pressed forward again, still wary of the moment he'd decide to counter. "Of being I'ent'ae given physical form."

"And what about you? Do you buy that sort of foolishness?" He asked, flicking the mace to the side to knock her sword away, driving the shield into hers to use his greater mass to advantage.

He was met by a braced body, a move that no Cybertronian could pull off, but her nanite-mass could. The face that met his over the shields had a feral grin on it as she pushed back, testing the strength he had. She never lost track of where his mace was, even if she didn't strike with her sword.

"If believing in a power greater than yourself is foolish, than yes," she told him, a trickle of real anger coloring her tone.

"A power greater than yourself that's just as powerless to prevent an entire sector from needing to be slagged?" He taunted her, taking the new angle of attack. "A power greater than yourself that never shows itself, never does anything, never proves its power? What sort of leader needs to _hide_ from her followers to keep their loyalty?" He sneered, striking for her sword arm.

"New sparks are all She ever promised, and that She provides," Ezara snarled, the rumble of more than a few offended Tezita backing her up as she struck back, twisting with him to slam her shield hard into his with a resounding thwack and the crack of crystal. "She is the goddess of Lydrom, not the Tezita."

"Sparks that _you_ create on your own," he laughed with a sneer, striking her sword arm and beginning to charge the blast chamber in his cannon , counting on her frustration to keep her from noticing the faint noise and warn her to stay behind his shield, where he'd have to expose himself to get a shot at her.

"Ignorant kyxt!" one of the male Tezita snarled furiously with the sound of servos and gears moving and the clang of a bot being restrained.

"If you survive me, you won't survive that," Ezara smirked at him, her optics glittering in amusement as her sword came down against his mace, knowing full well the quality difference between the two as the shaft cracked. "Ignorant is right."

"If you say so," he grinned viciously, hammering her shield with his to knock her away from his left side, in front of his fighting arm. He stepped back at the same moment, raising his arm and firing his fusion cannon at nearly full power, heedless of who might be behind her to take whatever part of the blast didn't catch her or the consequences to him if it didn't take her down.

Her shield came forward as she caught her balance, taking part of the blast in a cascade of sparks. The rest hit her squarely in the chest with a thundering boom. A maelstrom of heat exploded out from her, washing over the spectators in a paint-blistering wave before she took the opening and slammed her sword sideways through both mace and shield.

Skjöldur's curious sound, Lyzen explained that they were the most dangerous weapons Megatron had, so they were targeted first.

Whether that was true or not, he seemed to be expecting the movement. He twisted the shield as she was cutting through it, throwing her angle off as he grabbed her arm and twisted to carry the sword right out of her hand. His ruined shield and her sword clattered to the ground near Soundwave's feet.

Without a thought Ezara twisted, her arm bending in impossible ways for her body to come around. Nanite-edged claws slashed at his throat, tearing minor fuel lines and cables.

A sonic pulse sent a shudder of agony through the tiny robots that made up her body, nearly disintegrating some of the ones near the surface - Megatron shouldn't have been able to do anything like that, that sort of manipulation was Soundwave's talent, but the pulse had come from him!

There wasn't time to think about it; a low, throbbing, infrasonic pulse was putting every one of her processors on edge, inducing an impulse to flee the battle.

A snarl of defiance was all she could muster as she lashed out, physically and mentally, taking much of the energy she's absorbed from his cannon and pushing it into his circuits in an uncontrolled wave of destruction.

Ignoring the pain and damage, he flipped back, beginning his transformation - but instead of transforming into the handgun she was familiar with, he instead _grew_, his armor thickening as his body bulked out, his cannon growing larger as he became a massive hovertank, opening fire at her from a gun nearly as large as she was.

He could hear the shock from the Autobots watching, murmurs of approval from the Tezita and cheers from his own side.

She took the nanoklik she had to dive forward, going under him to strike upwards at what would be the least armored part of his frame with a fist turned bodkin head. It didn't go deep, but it went deep enough for a small flood of powerful molecular acid to pour out onto her hand, sizzling and dissolving the nanites that tried to rush into the opening. He twisted and transformed again, bringing his blaster around. His eyes flared, a series of rhythmic pulses of colored light overloading her sensors with coded patterns and impulses.

It bought him a few precious nanokliks to pound into her with fists, the first strike leaving a small device of Soundwave's construction inside her. A shimmer passed through her partially prone frame as she struggled against the sonic and electrical pulses that scrambled much of her control over her nanites.

His cannon fired again, this time a piercing note that resonated through her armor, shaking the hardened crystal to its core. A network of hairline fractures spread through the glowing ruby armor before he fired another blast of coherent sound and he rushed forward before she could move again.

Ancient armor, the best the Tezita had ever produced, finally gave way to the full strength of his strike. Beneath it he felt the give of her half-solidified body and saw the twisting of pain and shock as per processors registered it all. Clawed hands came up, slowly, trying to retaliate, but it was all too easy for him to avoid.

"What sort of god-incarnate are you?" He taunted her, a sneer on his face as he fired another concussive blast into her at point-blank range.

Her body convulsed once, then shimmered as the nanites reasserted their independence and she twisted out of the way of the next blast into her beast form and lunged forward.

"The stubborn kind," she snarled as jaws clamped down on his shoulder and three sets of claws dug into his ultra-heavy armor.

He triggered the stunner again, deep furrows ripping through his armor as he pulled free and rocketed into the sky, counting on her to follow him. He wasn't disappointed, though he hadn't counted on the raw _acceleration_ she could apply when she wanted to.

The shockwave of her near miss at several times escape velocity sent him spinning and tore at the damage already inflicted on his frame.

His jaw locked as he gritted through the pain, stabilizing himself and aiming at her as she came around, switching on the advanced targeting system he'd borrowed from Half-Track and firing at her - this time using the gyro cannon mode he'd taken from Blitzwing. He'd had other plans, but now that she was coming down on her own, it was too good a chance to pass up.

He kicked his thrusters to full power to avoid her when he registered the hit, and followed her down. He was caught in her shockwave again, though not quiet as close this time. He only barely managed to orient himself in time to run a quick calculation that put her landing more than a hundred miles from the island. Even knowing the physics of flight and impact on a core level, he was surprised at the destructive power of her mass hitting the ocean surface at just shy of mach 100. Slower than her assent, but still insanely fast.

Water vaporized, leaving a visible hole in the ocean miles wide. In the distance he saw everyone on the island scramble to get in the air or catch a lift from someone who could. It would be inundated in a few seconds.

Unfortunately, the Autobots all managed to get airborne with the help of the Tezita, though they barely managed to get above the water in time. It had been a close thing, at least.

He didn't have time for that - he instead focused on the spot where Ezara had hit and moved closer, cannon charging as he tried to spot her for a finishing shot.

Water exploded upward, causing another small tidal wave to rush outwards as she broke the surface and accelerated towards him. The blast was perfectly aimed, but didn't even slow her down. He tried to dodge, but there simply wasn't time to get away from the flow of nanites that reached out for him, then enveloped him. He distantly felt them in freefall as her nanites began to eat at his armor plating.

Distantly Megatron was aware of panicking chaos in the Tezita ranks, terrified shouts of 'him' and 'how' until Lyzen's strong, steady voice took over. She was ordering the Autobots and non-coms away, Decepticons to stay back and called out names to join her.

Even she radiated terror with her determination.

_**Stormfire**_ whispered across his processors from Soundwave's borrowed telepathy, coming from all around him. First hand memories licked at the edge of his awareness of a psychotic tyrant, a natural flyer that was the Unmaker incarnate from that distant planet.

~Agree to end this, and join me, and you can have your freedom and revenge for everything they did to you,~ Megatron promised silently. ~I understand your calling, what they took from you!~

~You. Not. Useful.~ The voice, male and furious, tore into his mind briefly before it was drawn back, pulled away from him and Ezara's more familiar presence took precedence. She didn't banish the insane flier completely though. Merely kept him tightly reigned as she focused on consuming Megatron's very body to add to her own. ~You will be immortal, you know,~ she purred at him. ~Your body inherited by every future Toe'Emirc.~

~Not if I have anything to say about it!~ Megatron snarled mentally, firing his cannon inside of her, warping the blast into a sphere of sheer kinetic force to blast her semi-solid mass away far enough that he could get out, blasting back towards the island.

He could feel her snarl of pain before the distance dulled reception. Then she was after him, her form flaring out into a flier alt that had little in common with her normal one. It was larger, heavier and radiated the power and authority of her station.

At this point, he knew he only had one chance to even the odds from this - if she'd taken that impact without being seriously hurt, his only chance was to try the one thing he _did_ know had managed to nearly kill her before.

He just had to hope that she hadn't become more powerful since Starscream's attempt. He fired the gyro-cannon back at her, to buy himself a little extra time.

Once he was back above the island, he fired Darkwing's electro-kinetic blaster again, counting on it to get her to shift her attention from defense and what he might have in mind. He needed her closer - preferably closer to the blast than he would be. And he needed her not to know it was coming.

Ezara snarled as agony ripped through her systems, every joule of kinetic energy turned into raw pain that laced across a neural net far more complex than any Cybertronian.

The Decepticons moved away, having seen clearly how badly they wanted to not be in the immediate vicinity of the fight, if they wanted to live through it. The Autobots kept a similar distance, and the warriors of the Tezita only somewhat closer.

He saw her manner change, the pain stripping away her higher functions until all that was left was the most basic core programming of how she responded to a threat.

To no one's surprise, that core programming was to attack head on.

Exactly what he'd been hoping for, perversely. As she came closer, he shot back, using his cannon to propel himself backwards through the air - and to set off the stores of energon he'd hidden beneath the island. He'd be caught in the blast, but if she didn't survive it, he would.

White hot molten energy kicked up dirt and rocks at it converted from a solid to a wave in a fraction of a nanoklik, turning the island into the center of an energon warhead strike large enough to vaporize the Nemesis. Tactile sensors almost completely off-lined, Megatron still felt it when it rushed by him, consuming everything around him. His outer armor melted, vaporized on the spot in places.

His sensors never left the target below him, caught even closer to the center of the blast. Optics went black, melting in the first shockwave, audio and tactile were beyond useless, but Half-Track's targeting system was still on line and following the large Seeker-like shape rushing towards him. It's mass was going down, but not enough, not fast enough. She'd still be a threat when she reached him.

Hopefully a threat he could handle though.

He switched all of his power to the circuits that still functioned, and the ones taken from the Constructicons, boosting his strength and flying blindly towards her. There was nothing left now but to struggle up close for survival, make a properly good showing and hope there was enough left to repair afterwards.

The first impact with her animal alt gave him hope. There was next to no conscious thought in the frame he was facing, no use of the advantages of the nanites, and she was at most two thirds of his mass now. What was there was a raw, mindless savagery intent on tearing him to little bits and using his remains to rebuild itself.

Claws dug into his armor, sharp teeth punctured it. Every small movement was a pure agony for her, driving the rage that kept more advanced protocols off line.

He had to fight the urge to bring his energon flail into play; in the condition she was in, feeding her energy would only improve her abilities, he knew it. Instead, he focused on finding anything important that he could by touch, hammering her with his fists, trying to sink his hands into her body for the vital Spark that he could sense there.

Jaws closed around his head, shattering an optic and pulling off much of his helm. Long, powerful claws dug into his frame, tearing connections and shattering armor. His processors, however focused on the current battle, drifted in memory replays of the first time he'd faced such a battle. His first arena battle, the first time he'd killed for the simple fact that he _could_, that it was _expected_ of him.

A vicious smile crossed what was left of his face as he tore a limb off, dropping it into the ocean below.

He'd lost. He knew it now. Now it was just to ensure that no one in two galaxies would forget the name Megatron, or the mech who bore it.

From slave-miner to the ruler of Cybertron and challenger of the Prime himself, he'd done well.

Systems were failing faster than he could reroute them now.

If it wasn't Prime, at least this Toe'Emirc was a fitting challenger to end his existence.

One last strike and his hand closed around the source of incredible power.

_Her Spark!_

Energy surged in a last desperate effort to take his opponent with him before all control of his frame faded.

Pain faded away. A warmth, a soft pleasure eased over his processors. The sense of falling was brief.

His body no longer responded to him. Dark warmth was all he was aware of, then the gentle welcome of light and Primus and there were sparks all around him. Warriors long fallen, loyal Decepticons from the beginning of the war and since. No all who had fallen, he knew. But enough still greeted his arrival with the awe and desire to serve that his spark smiled at the gathering.

If they were still here, death was not the end.

* * *

::Air Commander Thrust!:: Ezara's open transmission could be heard clearly as she hovered with the broken, death-gray body of Megatron hanging from one hand.

Thrust hung stunned in the air, before Soundwave reached over and pushed him forward. He moved ahead automatically, head down submissively, no surface left for them to land on. His energon pump was going at nearly as frantic a rate as his spark. As brutal as the battle had been, she barely looked damaged. What chance did he have?

"You are the Decepticon Second in Command, correct?" Her voice, while steady and strong, betrayed her exhaustion.

It made him feel _slightly_ better, at least. There was a good chance that, as a group, the Decepticons here could take her... but at a heavy cost, especially with the Autobots who hadn't left to stop the tidal waves, and the Tezita warriors who would surely intervene.

Not worth it at all.

"On Earth, yes," he agreed. "Assuming that you wish to allow me to retain my former rank, my... Lord?" He said, hoping he wouldn't insult her with the reflexive honorific. A femme leader would take some time to adjust to, mentally.

"As long as you don't screw up, you will," she told him evenly, not making any effort to hide the fact that she was taking his measure and wasn't completely impressed.

But then, he and his trine had beaten the bolts out of Thundercracker, and rumor had it he was her lover along with Skywarp. It wasn't going to make them any points if it was true. He told solace in the fact that she didn't seem inclined to destroy him outright.

His gaze flicked up at the motion of someone coming from the opposing lines. One of the Tezita. Another big femme.

"Si'Mir Lyzen Kikn'nah is my SIC and Chief of Intel," Ezara introduced her. "You answer to her as you would answer to me."

"Of course," he agreed quickly, not saying that he'd answer to her far more quickly than he would to Ezara - he didn't even _want_ to know what their Intel people did when they were perturbed. "Is there anything you wish of us?" He asked them.

"Take the others back to Nemesis and show Lyzen around," Ezara said firmly. "I'll join you in a few joor. I have a Prime to deal with now," she added before turning to join her warriors with her kill still in hand.

"Is there high grade on the ship?" Lyzen asked politely as she took off towards the sunken starship at a pace easily maintained by the Decepticons who were still largely in shock.

"There is," he nodded slightly. "Will there be any specific preparations we should make in advance of her arrival at the Nemesis?"

"Send anyone who can't at least fake being pleased on patrol for the party," she gave him something of an understanding look. "It may not be the victory you wanted, but you're now in a much better position to survive the end of the war to rule the skies. Then be ready for a few decaorns of hard work. Nemesis is going to fly again."

"We could get her airborne faster if we had a little help from Cybertron," he offered carefully. "What will happen to what's left of him?"

"That depends on whether or not our Master Engineer can talk Ezara into letting her have him. Even that badly damaged he's an exceptional example of Cybertronian war technology, and it would be good to recover the transferred abilities if it's possible. Do Decepticons or Cybertron have any death-rites?"

"Space 'em before they cause any trouble," Thrust snorted slightly. "Sweep the parts behind the rug or build a statue if there's a good reason to. We don't really have much use for warriors who go down, though he put up a damn good fight. We would like to recover the chips he took from us though - the abilities are too useful. We could get them replaced by the Forge if we had to, but that could be tricky."

"Then eventually he'll probably be converted to nanites and absorbed into Ezara's body mass," she said. "It's our tradition with such high-level challenges."

Silence held for several long moments until the cove Nemesis had sunk in came into view. The landing platform rose and brought them all on board.

Lyzen noted that Soundwave's cassetticons were on monitor duty. From the displays she was sure they'd watched the entire event and were badly rattled by it. Rumble and Frenzy kept giving her nervous looks, and looks for reassurance from their creator.

"Soundwave, have a full status report on personnel, supplies and needs ready for me within the joor," she looked at the visored mech briefly. "Now, let's start on the tour," she focused on Thrust again, quite willing to play her role despite knowing more about the Nemesis, her crew and the past few metacycles than anyone on board, with the possible exception of Soundwave.

"If you would like," Mindwipe offered as he approached cautiously, well aware of the hazards involved in his actions as well as the potential rewards. "I could conduct the tour for you, allow Air Commander Thrust to focus on the preparations that were mentioned."

The Air Commander nodded slightly, eager to be free of that duty but not daring to show it. The fear of Intel that Soundwave had instilled in almost everyone mixed with the display of power and violence he was still trying to shake the shock of made Si'Mir Lyzen Kikn'nah someone he wanted to stay clear of as much as he could and remain in the good graces of when he couldn't.

"That is agreeable," Lyzen smiled slightly at the Decepticon that was far, far more interesting to her personally than the Seekers.

"Is there a particular form of address you would prefer, Si'Mir Lyzen Kikn'nah?" He asked her as Thrust turned to go take care of preparations more quietly.

"Si'Mir," she said easily as they left the command center. "Addressing me by other than my rank is a privilege to be earned. It is the same with Ezara. Her title is Toe'Emirc, though Lord Onyan'a or Lord Starshine are acceptable, as they are the local standard. You are Intel, correct?"

"As much as I am any classification, yes, Si'mir," he agreed, leading the way towards the laboratories. "The Decepticons have developed more of a cell operation; the trines are a good example, or the Constructicons. Any given unit has some ability to do everything that is part of its purview, instead of a broad Intel class that works most closely with their colleagues. My unit, under Skorponok, is a combination of front-line combat and advanced experimentation into the improvement of the Cybertronian species. I handle interrogation, advanced mental manipulation and, off the official Decepticon records, psychical research."

"Do you have any particularly interesting projects at the moment?" she nearly purred with interest.

"Interesting to me, or to anybody else?" He asked her easily, with the air of somebody who was entirely used to the two being vastly different. More scientist than Intel, from the sound of it.

"You," she told him, keeping the smile to herself. "You are going to be integrating into a society of ten billion. We learned long ago that the best work comes out of those assigned missions they find personally appealing."

"Well!" He said, not hiding his pleasant surprise. "My primary work was on mental manipulation and control - you saw the trick that Megatron pulled when his optics began projecting a hypnotic pattern? My ability," he explained. "My preferred work, however, is with more esoteric subjects. Primarily attempting to contact the electromagnetic essences of the dead, outside of trying to catch them on their way into the Well of Sparks before they lose coherence."

"When things settle down, there are a couple Autobots you'll be wanting to talk with then," she smiled as they walked through the various laboratories and taking note of what he said about them. "Is your interest in answering a specific question?"

"Can it be done, what mistakes they made and how not to make them, is there anything beyond the Well... a variety of questions, really, but the first question is if I can do it. It could open an entirely new discipline to Cybertronian science. Tezitan science as well, I presume, Si'mir," he offered, attaching her rank as an afterthought to try keeping a submissive tone.

"We have answered those questions for ourselves, at least as far as what happens, how and why. Some can contact select deactivated, such as the Toe'Emirc. Knowing how it works for a related race is of definite interest to me," she gave him a slight smile. "Particularly a race with such strong apparent ties to an entity as powerful as Primus. Are there aspects of your research that should be kept from the Autobots?"

"Not ongoing aspects... though Skorponok's work should be kept very, _very_ classified from them," he offered. "Improving the species is either a slow process, or a messy one, and he's more comfortable with the latter than they are. My research hasn't involved them except when I tried to contact them. I'm making better progress with Decepticons and Neutrals though. It may be some remnant of their programming that leaves them unwilling to deal with a Decepticon. Actually, we may be able to get hold of Megatron, with his death being so recent!" He observed, his mind suddenly grabbed by the subject, his pace increasing as he suddenly wanted to get to his lab here. "I won't have my primary receiver, but I brought an old unit with me, it may work better with his strength of will..."

"That would be unadvisable," Lyzen kept her voice intentionally neutral.

"Ah... yes," he said, catching the implied warning and quickly processing why. "The tour first, of course," he said a little nervously, turning towards another area, back towards the crew quarters. Less tempting ground.

"I understand why he is a good subject," she spoke calmly to put him a little more at ease as they left the labs. "Just don't allow Ezara to find out if you try to contact a high-ranking Decepticon. I will not protect you."

"And for you to look the other way, Si'Mir?" he asked cautiously.

"Keep me up to date on your progress, with details," she gave him a small smile.

"Of course," he nodded easily - it was exactly what he was used to, for terms. Skorponok didn't really care what he did, as long as anything useful to come out of it was turned over. "May I ask why it would offend the Toe'Emirc? Being able to claim the knowledge of past commanders, and what brought them down, would be a valuable skill."

"It is," she said easily. "She is also new enough to this command that any attempt to contact former high ranking Decepticons, especially Megatron, is likely to be taken as planning a coup, not assisting her. None of those you might contact are likely to be her supporters, after all, and she has no reason to believe you are trying to help her."

"Well, they couldn't come back through my research, not yet at any rate," he offered. "But I understand. It is safe on those levels though - otherwise, it would be completely mad for me to try contacting some of those I have," he mused, as they moved into the labs.

She couldn't help but suspect that he _was_ rather thoroughly mad, though that was the norm for Decepticons from everything she'd heard so far. Mad in one way or another, or not smart enough to realize they should be. There would be some serious culling of the ranks to clean that out. Something else not to mention to their Autobot allies.

Why in I'ent'ae's Will did Ezara have to ally with such difficult people? As much work as the expansion would be, having to keep the Autobots and Prime pacified was going to make it twice as difficult.

Ah well, at least it was only for a short time.

"Tell me about Skorponok," she said instead of voicing her irritation.

"Ruthless, brilliant, and lethal," Mindwipe said with obvious approval. "A fine leader - he'd have made a much better commander than Starscream, if he'd been a better flier. Much more trustworthy as well," he added quickly. "He doesn't make a big deal out of it, but he is much more honorable than the jets ever were."

Lyzen chuckled as they reached Megatron's former quarters and she tapped in the access code without a pause. "Seekers are many things, and useful for some, but unstable is a kind description of most. Megatron had other reasons to keep Starscream around."

She noticed that he didn't react to his knowing the password at all - either he hadn't noticed it, or was better at hiding some reactions than he seemed. Most likely the latter, if he was any good at all with interrogations.

"Will the Toe'Emirc take over Megatron's old quarters? If so, we can arrange to have them cleared," he offered helpfully.

"She will, though she prefers to do the clearing out herself," Lyzen said in an absent tone as she moved around the large, luxuriously finished entry room with wide windows that now looked out on the dark sea. She was sure if it was less well insulated she'd be able to pick up IR signals from the whale and seals she knew were in the darkness beyond. The door to the right she knew lead to a personal office, while the left was to the berth room and beyond that a private wash rack, including a bathing pool.

With a settling of her nanites, she reached out to contact the Monitor assigned to Nemesis. With confirmation that her agent was indeed in control of all the traps in the quarters she began the careful processes of disabling the traps spread throughout the quarters while keeping an optic out for anything she might not want Ezara to find on her own.

Plans for operations, though nothing as grand as moving Cybertron into Earth's orbit ... general evidence of his relationships, though nothing indicating a favored lover. More like favored punching bags, it seemed.

The trophies were somewhat interesting, but those were Ezara's to do with as she wanted. Though there was a headpiece, very much like Prime's... Sentinel Prime's, most likely. A prize of his earliest and greatest victory. Weapons were noted but left be, along with the high-grade stock and various other luxuries of rank.

A small beep in her processor informed her that Soundwave's joor was up, so she left, satisfied that the room was no longer a hazard to walk into, she left, pinging the Nemesis for his location. When she opened the door, she found him waiting for her.

"I have prepared the report, as you requested," he said in his characteristic monotone. "I did not believe you would want to be interrupted."

"Good," she accepted the datapad and made a quick scan of the most needed items, correlating them with what she knew was easy to obtain. "How long will it take you to prepare a comprehensive report on your Intel network and status? Particularly those in Autobot custody, officially or otherwise," she asked even as she sent the list of most needed supplies to Tonen to begin organizing.

"The report is complete, Si'Mir," he informed her. Even without his telepathy he could tell the news pleased her and made note of it. "I can add it to that datapad, or I could effect a direct transfer, if you are willing. It would allow for additional detail."

Lyzen cocked her head slightly, considering both the suggestion and the suggester as he waited with his trademark impassive patience. It wasn't information she particularly wanted on a datapad, even one she was in possession of. She was asking for too much sensitive data. Data that in the wrong hands could cripple the system. With a bit of manipulation, she segregated a group of nanites in her forearm to contain what was transferred until she was sure it was safe to integrate into her databanks.

"Direct transfer," she hand a hand out for the connector cable.

He connected with her, transferring the information directly. A quick review said it was safe - extensive as well, to judge by the size of it. Nothing but information though, no code.

~I can answer any questions you may have,~ he said, maintaining the contact. ~Including the profiles I maintained for Megatron.~

He could feel her skimming the contents of his files, speed reading the highlights of those she was interested in.

~Who are loyal enough to Shockwave that they will not see reason?~ she asked after a moment.

~Prior to an initial display of force and ability, or permanently?~ He clarified, opening his barriers to allow her at least limited access to his processors, an early display of trust in his new commanding officer.

~Permanently,~ she clarified, taking what openings he offered, though she didn't push for more even though she rather wanted to. ~The more his support base is undermined, the shorter the energon bath the takeover will be.~

~Affirmative,~ he nodded slightly in the real world, before allowing her into what seemed almost like a viewing area more than anything else... segregated from his main processors, though a fully functioning part of his mind all the same. She could see other areas from here as well, segregated in much the same way - a thick jungle, a towering forest of buildings above rough slums, and a great stretch of mountains torn apart by storms and strip mining.

His direct access to the mindscapes of his subordinate robots, obviously.

In the main region of his processors, she could see a constantly shifting overlay of other mindscapes - it was almost impossible to tell what was his, and what belonged to the other Decepticons around him. Occasionally one would come more into focus, appear to be packaged forcibly, and then pushed off to the side. Her own mindscape was dimly in the background, occasionally flickering in and out, but left alone more than any of the others.

Her attention was drawn back from the fascinating view of a telepathic Cybertronian's mental terrain when he brought an array of five or six different mindscapes up for her to view. The first a complicated network of mathematical fractals, processing on into near-infinite, pulsating flaws occasionally forming and being pushed back into place harshly. The next were much more normal - views of Cybertron and its assorted regions. One of them was different though, a massive network of gears and pistons pumping endlessly.

~Most difficult subject: Shockwave.~ The fractal space came into primary focus. ~Specialty: Energy manipulation, advanced probability mathematics. Basic profile: Perfectionist dedicated to universal reconstruction on a fundamental level. Recommendation: Induction of mental collapse, restoration of mind after extensive alteration.~

~Secondary subject: Boomdocks.~ The image of a Cybertronian seascape, full of rusted sludge, came into view. ~Specialty: Hazardous material navigation and control, bioweaponry. Basic profile: Sociopathic scientist and developer. Placed little value on life prior to Forge reprogramming, places none on it now. Notable accomplishments: Developed rust-induction bomb. Bomb never deployed beyond development lab due to lack of cure. Developed Dromedonian Shrike-sickness during Dromedon campaign in era of Nova Prime. Recommendation: Termination, confiscation of lab notes for future development by psychologically stable researcher.~ The second mindscape dropped back, to be replaced by the third.

~Tertiary subject: Warpwave.~ The image that came into view was a Cybertronian skyscape, similar to the buildings and skyscrapers of one of the subordinate mindscapes that were segregated off. ~Specialty: Flight, mass combat. Basic profile: Experimental creation of Shockwave's. Favored weapon is modified teleportation matrix that induces spatial warps and flaws in every target in range. Known range - one-mile radius witnessed during campaign against Uraya. Larger ranges hypothetically possible. Recommendation: Termination, confiscation and further refinement of quantum induction cannon.~

The fourth mindscape came into focus, this one an idealized view of the Towers.

~Final mobile subject: Archon. Primary specialty: Administration and propaganda. Basic profile: Former Tower mech, captured and reprogrammed during Iacon campaign after extensive interrogation. The face of Decepticon propaganda and social experimentation. Highly visible icon for rebellion to rally against. Recommendation: Execution.~

Then the sea of gears and pistons came into view, utterly alien in many ways.

~Final subject: Kaon. City is loyal to unknown force, known only to Megatron. Tolerated for access to the Forge. Recommendation: Isolation of Forge, termination and reconstruction of remaining city.~

Lyzen considered all that was presented, downloaded it to her own databanks and gave it a cursory run through her own tactical programs before responding.

~What has prevented you from discovering Kaon's loyalties?~

~Variable: Impossible to calculate,~ Soundwave said, a distinct note of frustration passing briefly across the mindscape before being silenced. ~Attempts to identify have resulted in mass distortion of data and irreconcilable errors. Kaon's behavior suggests an inversion of the proper relationship between it and the Decepticons; that the Decepticons are a means to its ends.~

~At least that narrows down the possibilities,~ Lyzen mused, mostly to herself. None of them possibilities she _liked_ either. ~What makes Shockwave worth the effort to rebuild?~

~Technical brilliance and capability: unparalleled,~ Soundwave explained. ~Induction of mental collapse fairly simple; intense logic and perfectionism leaves Shockwave vulnerable to illogical, intentionally flawed stratagems. Attempts to process likely to induce logical loop and stasis lock. Minimal risk, high potential rewards.~

She laughed deeply when the first thing that came to mind was to sic Ezara's newborns on him to wreck havoc as only newborns could, even as she knew she'd never risk it. ~You have a few that could be implemented within the metacycle?~

~With, or without aid of the Autobots and their efforts to retake Cybertron?~ He asked her, strategies coalescing, being compared, being discarded.

~Choose two recommendations for each. Have them ready for my review in a decacycle,~ she decided. ~Is there anything else I should know before I prepare a briefing for the Toe'Emirc?~

~Not regarding Decepticon operations, Si'mir,~ he said respectfully. ~I would recommend that the first target we disable from the list is Boomdocks; his capabilities have the greatest potential to cause mass destruction on Cybertron if the conclusion is reached that the Decepticons cannot win the war.~

~Understood,~ she flicked her chin up. ~If you show me to your control room, I'll set up the clearances you will need to access my Intel network.~

~As you wish,~ he nodded. ~Would you like to go there physically, or through data transfer?~

~Physically. The permissions require physical contact with the station, and those authorized to access the links.~

She saw the faded image of her mindscape disappear, shortly before he disengaged contact with her.

"Control station is this way," he intoned, turning to lead the way. It was a short walk, and she knew the way as well as he did.

"What percentage of your telepathic ability remained after you gave it up to Megatron?" she asked in the lift ride down.

"Telepathic abilities functioning at 40%," he told her emotionlessly. "Soundwave possessed them prior to Forge enhancements; they were simply strengthened."

Lyzen nodded. "Who built the tech that gave him access to the abilities of others?"

"Theoretical development was Starscream's; project was developed practically by Soundwave."

"Good," she allowed a bit of relief as he unlocked the door to a room only he and his cassettes normally had access too. "What do you need to reverse the process?"

"Recovery of the swapped chips, with as little damage as possible. Abilities can be restored afterwards," he said as the door closed. He watched her assess the room and felt the mixture of approval and resignation at the facilities. There was a comm burst with the information, but he couldn't tell who it was directed at.

Lyzen nodded and sat down at the single station for a full-sized mech and began to work, logging in as herself even though he hadn't set up access yet. "Our engineer will see how much she can pull out of his frame."

"Once she is finished, we may be able to retrieve more," he offered, watching what she was doing both physical and via his remote connection. "Better knowledge of Cybertronian physiology and tolerances."

"I'll see that his remains are brought here for your efforts before Ezara consumes them," Lyzen said somewhat absently, the majority of her attention on the effort required to upgrade the station to support the direct secure connection to her network. "You won't have the full access with this station that most of my ranking officers would have, but it will give you enough until the Nemesis is rebuilt and up to spec."

"And you are reassured of our loyalty," Soundwave agreed. "Would you like to establish surveillance through one of the Cassettes?" He offered.

"That too," she chuckled, amused and pleased with his honest statement even as she considered his offer. While she appreciated the offer, simply for what it meant to volunteer one of his symbiots, did she really need the extra trouble? Then again, it could be a useful place for Amoni to spend the next few metacycles.

She mulled it over as she finished the work and established the basic link and confirmed that it was stable.

"What kind of surveillance did you have in mind?" she asked, looking at him as she shifted to face him.

"Logical induction: Some manner of remote surveillance through nanite mass is possible. Likely through remote sensory link capable of tracking and sensory ability. Ability of Toe'Emirc to find Skywarp when desired supports conclusion," he explained simply.

She nodded easily and produced a small bundle of nanities that formed itself into a snake. "We have several ways to do that. This is the same thing that Thundercracker carries around. Ezara prefers spiders, I prefer snakes. It's all the same in the end. A bit of our mass we maintain contact with. Who will carry it?"

"Logical selection: Rumble, Frenzy, or Squawkbox," he explained. "Functionality of Laserbeak, Buzzsaw and Ravage could be impaired if masses detectable by others. Extended independent operation also decreases efficacy as monitors."

Lyzen considered his words and the options. Frenzy was too unstable with his sonic powers that could scramble his own processors. Listening to Rumble was annoying already, even without the direct presence at all times. Squawkbox was fascinating in his own right, even if his taste in music was questionable at best. Still, at least he was intelligent, inquisitive and has potential not to make her wish to off-line him. And, as Soundwave's personal bodyguard, he was the one who was least likely to be off operating on his own for very long.

"Squawkbox: eject," Soundwave responded to her silent choice, and noted that she didn't object at all to the fact that it was clear he was listening to her surface thoughts. "Acknowledge: Si'mir Lyzen Kikn'nah is head of Decepticon intelligence. Add to database of acknowledged superiors. Addition: Add Toe'Emirc Ezara Onyan'a. Remove Megatron from list; deceased. Remove Shockwave from list until further notice; suspected traitor. He will obey your orders, within very few limitations," he told Lyzen, shifting his focus to her abruptly. "Orders to refuse: Permanently offline acknowledged superior officers, currently consisting of Soundwave, Si'Mir Lyzen, Toe'Emirc Ezara Onyan'a."

"You are aware what you have just been volunteer for?" Lyzen asked the relatively large purple and teal cassette-mech. The nanite snake curled up and lifted its head from her hand to regard him.

"I'm supposed to maintain passive surveillance on Soundwave and what he's doing, so you'll know if he gets up to anything he shouldn't," Squawkbox summarized, his voice grating, though not as badly as some of the others did.

"This is how that will happen," Lyzen nodded and extended her hand to allow him to inspect the small serpent before it crawled onto his shoulder and settled down to near invisibility, integrating its nanites into his armor. "It will report to me what happens around you that it finds interesting."

"I'm gonna want to make sure it fits when I transform," he warned them both, his blaster subspacing before he changed back into a cassette, jumping up into Soundwave's hand in the process. A moment later he transformed back to mech mode. "How does it fit?"

"Nanites are small enough to fit between the atoms of your armor. The one watching over Thundercracker has orders to remain highly visible, but yours is there to watch, not remind everyone who you answer to," she explained. "It will draw power, however the handful you are carrying will be a negligible drain. You will inform Soundwave or myself if your systems or performance are adversely affected."

"He'll know before I do," the mini-mech almost scoffed before changing back and re-entering his master.

"Affirmative: Diagnostic link will indicate any abnormal function," Soundwave promised. "Unrelated query: Tezita breeding program. Classified information?"

"Very little of it," she chuckled and relaxed in the chair. "At least not for military, which includes you. Ask."

"Assumptions: Participation, mandatory. Obligation past spark-generation, negligible. Goal of the program, general improvement of the Tezita species. Unknowns: Criteria for selection, risks to participants, extent of improvements desired. Summary of high-value and most willing participants easier with understanding of program goals; possible Cybertronian consultant on project known, but level of need unclear."

"Assumptions correct," she nodded slightly. "The risk to Cybertronians is largely unknown, though to judge by Jazz and Skywarp there are little to no long-term effects. Criteria are a combination of special abilities, spark strength, will, physical appeal and an appropriate mate being available." She reached back and tapped a few keys without looking. "Program basics and the top-priority sub-programs are downloading now for your review.

"My top interest is to bring natural flight back. Seekers are preferred, but any with a flight-worthy alt would be considered. Eager participants are preferred, they do produce better results in my experience, however a particularly useful ability outweighs consent. I do not plan on investing much in the breeding program with Cybertronians until Ezara's two newest have reached maturity in approximately four and a half metacycles to be reasonably sure that the mix is stable enough to progress with as more than an experiment."

"Recommendation: Contact Skorponok. His own research has been along these lines; his methods differ, but can be redirected. The offered opportunity to work on a species that is capable of evolution would be a strong way to maintain his loyalty."

"Where is Skorponok now?" she considered the idea and pulled up what files she had on the mech.

"Last update: Cybertron, Uraya region. Proximity to the Neutral Regions allowed him to be in position for riot suppression in case of attempted rebellion by Cybertronian Autobot forces. It will also allow him to stand against forces sent by Shockwave now."

"Good," she smiled faintly. "Contact him. Extend an invitation to join the breeding program staff when Cybertron has been secured." She paused, accessing her Intel network in a way that felt very similar to accessing his symbiots to Soundwave. "Aquarius will join him in the next few orns to assist in organizing both the assault and defense."

"As you command, Si'Mir," he agreed. "Is there anything else you wish to have arranged, while I am contacting Cybertron?"

"Whatever you deem is in the best interest of preparing to take Cybertron," she told him, offering her first real signal of trust and a serious test to him as she stood to leave. "Have all hostilities towards Autobots and Neutrals cease. For now, we must play nice with them."

He had no doubt that if he did well, his position in her inner circle would be as secure as anything was. If he failed, his fate would be worse than deactivation as she used him to improve her own kind. He also had no doubt that she was no less pleased with the Autobot alliance than most Decepticons were.


	12. The Party of All Time

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Mirage/Tarinash, Prowl/Noitefel, others  
_Rating_: R for mech/mech  
_Codes_: Slash  
_Summary_: The Autobots and Tezita take the opportunity to celebrate Megatron's destruction before facing the reality that the war is far from over. _Note_: 'Meu un suave' 'My gentle one' in Galician

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**Wanderer's Home acr 3 pt 12: The Party of All Time**

* * *

A party didn't even begin to describe what was happening outside the Ark that night.

Optimus Prime sat on the edge of the celebration with Lyzen and Nightstalker, who had Windfall snuggled up against his side and seemed to be happily affectionate with the SpecOps inventor. Crashcourse and Skjöldur were playing guard; volunteered, as Prime understood it, so the social ones could enjoy the party. Most likely so _Noitefel_ could enjoy the party, as it was the tactician's normal shift.

Of course, knowing them as well as he did... they probably didn't exactly _mind_ to be out of the social ring.

"I hope they're all ready for when reality hits again," Optimus mused quietly, sure that Lyzen heard him. "I doubt the rest of the Decepticons will _all_ go along with the bargain."

"If more than a handful do, I'll be surprised," Lyzen said evenly, her gaze on the party, picking out pairings and judging the seriousness of each. "Though they might surprise me and display some survival instincts."

"They have them, but they'll need more than just seeing Megatron beaten in single combat before they're convinced," Optimus explained quietly. "At least until we've retaken the anti-orbital laser platforms. But that's for another time - Shockwave might surprise me pleasantly for once."

"He's not planning to," she said before sipping a bit of local high grade. "The bulk of the Nemesis crew is much less eager to find out what'll happen if they refuse her first orders. They know they're first in our sights, and from Soundwave, they know it's not just the Tezita they see they need to worry about."

"Always helpful, particularly given that Soundwave has already agreed to join you," he mused. "What are your plans for the Nemesis?"

"Repair it and use it as a flagship, at least for a few vorn," she said easily. "Amoni and Etri are there now, getting to know who's who a little better and preparing the ship to integrate into our systems. It will remain Decepticon headquarters here on Earth for the time being. Most plans will be chosen after Shockwave has formally refused to comply and we find out how many Cons are more loyal to him than afraid of us."

"Honestly, I'm grateful - it's hard enough with Thundercracker here, if we'd had to take in the rest of them... it wouldn't be possible to control everybody, I'm afraid," he admitted. "How is Etri handling the loss of the connection it had?"

"Thundercracker may return to the Nemesis once it is secured if he wishes." Lyzen said, her optics drawn to the blue Seeker who was keeping to the sidelines but not completely separate as he talked with Corsa, Olasia, Ratchet, Skyfire and Starscream. "Etri is proving that it won't be an Infiltrator much longer," she chuckled with fond amusement and a bit of evident pride. "It intends to be a Tezita liaison to Cybertron, specifically between our Intel branches." She paused to take another sip and smile at the way the Tezita were interspersed with Autobots and socializing well. "It intends to court Whiplash properly, though I would be happier if I had a better idea of how well that will go over."

"Only time will tell," Optimus nodded slightly. "I don't know him very well, though the general difficulties that Intel officers have with relationships will probably be a part of it. At least that's something Etri understands."

"Very much so," she chuckled lightly. "It understands his issues very well. It will be interesting to see how that turns out. I am somewhat surprised that Elita-1 is not here to celebrate with you."

"I wish she could be," Optimus admitted. "She may be able to arrive later, but right now all our forces on Cybertron are working on spreading the word there, trying to take advantage of the good will it might be able to generate. Megatron hasn't been a major factor there in ganon though, so it's not as much of a change for them."

"The energon shipments are likely of more value than news of his demise," she agreed with a ruffle of her outer nanites. "Still, the war has been in his name all this time, so it may have more effect than we're expecting. It has definitely rattled the lower Decepticon ranks, those who joined more out of seeing it as the best of bad choices. There's a lot of murmuring about what kind of leader Ezara is, even as Shockwave is trying to crush them."

"Are your agents providing active support to them now, or still only observing?" He asked her.

"Subtle support for now," she cast a fond smile for the couple she had particular interest in succeeding. "I need my Cons in a position to do significant damage when the war becomes formal with Shockwave. The Neutrals are mostly spreading word. This does bring us to what we'd hoped to avoid," she settled her gaze on him. "I know from my sources that Shockwave has no intention of surrendering. With what I have here, we can take Cybertron. However, I do agree that it would be best in the long run if it at least appears that you and the Autobots simply took advantage of Megatron's destruction, instead of a Tezita invasion."

"We've been planning for it for some time," he nodded. "Though it's probably a topic better saved for another night. I hadn't really thought that the Autobots would appear to be behind the retaking of Cybertron entirely at any point, myself. The Tezita being involved was always going to be an aspect that I acknowledged. How much of the role you play publicly will have to be determined, but as new allies who took the central organizing force out of the Decepticons, we can still make actually retaking Cybertron seem to be a Cybertronian effort, as long as it doesn't seem to be ten thousand Tezita warriors as the driving force. I imagine this will also work to Ezara's favor, with the rest of the Tezita, when they arrive?"

"To an extent, though what truly matters is winning the challenge. What do you think of them?" She motioned with her heard towards where Mirage was leading Tarinash from the dance floor with all the elegance of a royal ball in the pair.

"That they're attending an entirely different party than the rest of us," Optimus chuckled. "It's good to see that Mirage has found somebody he feels he can socialize with though... what do you think?"

"I like Mirage for him. It is still a political bonding if it happens, because between them it can be nothing else," her expression softened a bit more at the light touch of foreheads, a Cybertronian tradition, before Mirage walked towards the bar. "It will be very good for Cybertron as well."

"Agreed... though I'm not quite sure the Tower is ready for the introduction of Tezita breeding," Optimus chuckled lowly.

"I'm sure they will adapt, given the wealth he'll bring," she sipped her drink. "Tarinash's family is very wealthy and will put considerable resources towards his comfort and status here, and he is a fine excuse for me to be considerably more generous than I could normally be. He's not Intel, but he's still one of mine."

* * *

"I don't suppose you have anything other than Ironhide's blends back there?" Mirage asked Sparkplug as he reached the bar, the human one of the few who'd been willing to take a break from celebrating long enough to make sure that there were the appropriate 'social lubricants' for everybody to celebrate with.

"Three of Sideswipe's, Kup's, Prime's, Starscream's and six variants from the Tezita," he grinned up at the spy. "What's your poison?"

"Which ones are Otalon and Farim drinking?" Mirage chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm looking for something that _doesn't_ taste like industrial metal solvent."

"This," Sparkplug pulled out a medium blue cube and a soft rosy cube. "They use the glasses," he motioned to the fine crystal goblets on corner of the bar. They were too heavy for the human to handle so he had them pour themselves. "Lyzen commented that Tarinash is fond the rose colored one."

"I'll have to thank her for the tip," he nodded, taking the rosy cube and pouring two glasses, picking them up. "At least it's not what their fearless leader drinks," he added, shaking his head slightly and taking a sip to taste the lightly acidic, refreshing sparkle of it against his glossa. It was a mild mix as well, only slightly stronger than standard grade he noted as it settled in his primary tank.

"That would be a good idea," the human nodded. "I get the feeling you're dating her kid, or possibly grandkid. I think she likes you, but that can change."

"I've probably got a better idea of just how quickly than you do," Mirage observed, mildly amused as he turned to try and spot Tarinash. "Though at least you have somebody to commiserate with now," he joked lightly, noting his lover near the rocky face of the mountain with another Tezita, one of the warriors. He stiffened fractionally when the warrior pushed Tarinash against the stone and kissed him hard.

"Excuse me," he said a little stiffly as he started towards the scene.

::Want me to find somebody else to chat with?:: He asked Tarinash privately. The link opened, but no words came through right away. Merely an acknowledgment of his question and the scramble of a very distracted processor trying to come up with an answer.

Mirage was certain that the sound that came from his lover when the warriors hands moved down his frame and pinned him against the rock was more distressed than pleasured, but he couldn't deny an element of the later.

He didn't particularly care though - he knew full well that a party like this could end up in places you didn't want it to go, even if you enjoyed getting there. He moved through the crowd purposefully, every bolt the Tower mech he was created to be as he reached up and put a hand on the warrior's shoulder.

"Excuse me, I believe you're cutting in without permission," he said with affable politeness that hid an implicit promise that it would be a mistake to keep doing so. It was a tone that he hadn't used in ganon, never really had the reason to, but hoped it would be as effective, yet polite, with the Tezita as it was viewed as being in the Towers.

If it wasn't... well, that could end up leading to less refined ways to settle the 'disagreement.' He knew everybody expected a few brawls to start between overcharged warriors tonight, but he really preferred to let Sunstreaker or Sideswipe be the first ones getting hauled off by their tailpipes by an irate Prowl or Ratchet.

"Where..." the warrior blinked down at him, taking a moment to translate what was said and how.

It was all the distraction Tarinash needed to squirm free and dart behind Mirage's frame. The light touch in the small of his back conveyed a silent thanks, and a sense that this was not serious as far as Tarinash was concerned.

A slight cock of the head at the posture Tarinash had taken and the warrior shrugged and walked off.

"Sorry it took so long to get your drink," Mirage offered, presenting the explanation that was expected, by himself at least. "I was trying to find a good blend," he explained, handing him the crystal glass. ::Are you okay?:: He asked him silently, his honest concern clear.

"It can be difficult in these mixed events," Tarinash smiled with more warmth than was required; just shy of too much for public. ::Yes, I'm fine,:: he assured his lover. ::I was quite agreeable the last time he had an opportunity. He didn't think to check that things may have changed. Military really do not comprehend 'not available' in these conditions.::

::All right - if you _want_ to play around with him, it's all right by me,:: Mirage told him. ::But if you'd rather stick with me, I'm quite happy to entertain,:: he added warmly.

::I much prefer your company,:: he purred through the connection, his touch light but almost full body as he slid a hand down Mirage's arm. "Perhaps when the fighting has died down you can spare a metacycle or two to visit Lydrom and meet my family."

"When things have died down and I've found out what happened to my own House," Mirage said gently, taking his hand. He smiled slightly when his lover leaned into the contact. "It may seem silly, but I need to know where I stand, what's left. If there's anything left besides memories and rubble."

"There is nothing silly about wanting to know where you stand," Tarinash said firmly before taking a sip of his effervescent high grade. "To be sure whether you are asking me to bond into your House, or to bond into mine."

"And what I'd have to offer, either way," he nodded slightly, taking a sip himself. "Thank you. Maybe now we'll be able to get some stability on Cybertron and take a look at things... even if Shockwave does fight back, he'll be forced to spend his time preparing for a Tezita invasion instead of hunting for us."

"And dealing with a rebellion in his ranks," Tarinash smiled with a faint shiver of excitement. "Lyzen is truly spectacular to watch do her favorite work, and she has two of her favorites intending to stay. No matter what it looks like is happening, she will not permit such dangers to continue."

"Her favorites?" Mirage asked teasingly. "Would you happen to be one of them?"

"I like to think so," he gave a coyly shy smile and tucked his head towards his shoulder as he moved just a bit closer. "Being civilian raised does make me a pet project if nothing else. A valuable resource to be protected," he slid a finger along Mirage's side where the action was protected from view, leaving a tingle of sensor nodes in it's wake.

::Mmm ... you're giving me ideas, dear,:: Mirage warned him playfully, his engine purring. "Why don't we go take a dance?"

::Good,:: he gave a playfully coy smile as they walked towards the large area designated for dancing after leaving their glasses at Lyzen's table to ensure that no one doctored them. ::I like your ideas.::

::I'll try to stay creative then,:: Mirage teased, taking his hand and pulling him up into a far more courtly dance than anybody else was used to, after broadcasting a request to Blaster for some more appropriate music.

* * *

In the dimness at the edge of the party, the two less-social tacticians of the Ark noted the different music and Noitefel smiled.

"Dance with me?" he asked Prowl softly enough that a refusal would not be noticed by anyone. "While the music suits the more dignified ones we know."

"All right," Prowl smiled slightly after a moment, standing to follow him out. "Though I should warn you, I haven't danced since before the war."

"That makes both of us," Noitefel rumbled softly as their frames came close, the movements of the old dances coming back to them as easily as any plan. He gently lowered his forehead, resting it lightly against the red chevron he enjoyed caressing so much and drew his lover as close as he dared in public. Between the two movements he was well aware of how much attention he'd garnered from various Autobots. It was, after all, the first public display worth talking about even if it was an accepted fact that they were lovers.

Just that sent a small thrill through normally calm processors. While Prime had privately given permission for this affair, encouraged it even, to be allowed such a public display by both his Prime and his very private lover were enough to bring his systems half way to overload by itself. He ruthlessly suppressed the desire to kiss, to touch and drive his lover to a very visible and audible overload before everyone.

_Where did that programming come from?_ Noitefel struggled with the nearly alien desires, finding them far more difficult than usual to suppress. He knew he wanted to publicly claim his lover, he had since Las Vegas when Prowl had agreed to share pleasure and his berth, but this was something far more.

Could it be the Tezita influencing him? They'd already witnessed several couples and threesomes in very public displays ranging from traditional to purely physical stimulation to the strange nanite mass merging that was unique to the Tezita warrior class.

Prowl, on the other hand, was more nervous than excited. He was keenly aware of every pair of optics on them. The ones who were approving, the ones who were amused - even the ones who were just surprised that he actually _could_ dance, though not nearly as well as the more aristocratic couple putting on their own show of subtle contact and grace.

He wanted to relax - tonight, of all nights, he ought to be able to. But it was still in the back of his processors that everybody here needed to _believe_ that his decisions were made for the simplest reasons. If the benefit was greater than the cost, it was worth it. If he asked somebody to risk their chassis, it was because they were the ones most likely to get out in one piece while succeeding, not because he didn't like them. If he pulled somebody off the front line, it was because they were better used somewhere else, not because he wanted to protect them.

It was true, and he and Noitefel both knew the Spark-deep compulsion to _keep_ it true. But the rest of them couldn't disengage on that level, not as a matter of routine. It was coding specific to advanced tactical programming and the battle computer that went with it. It was one of the big reasons he'd always been the 'base hard-aft' - if they didn't believe he was _capable_ of being soft, they wouldn't think that was why he'd made a particular decision.

~Would you like me to back off?~ Noitefel interrupted Prowl's uneasy thoughts. ~I do not wish you to be uncomfortable.~

~No - it's just nerves,~ Prowl explained. ~Hard to relax with everybody else around. Optimus has a much easier time of it.~

Noitefel smiled very softly at his lover's admission. ~Can I do anything to help?~ he asked gently, his tone affectionate and supportive. He wanted nothing more than to caress Prowl's cheek and kiss concerns away as they did in private.

~Help me forget everybody's watching, but don't go too far?~ Prowl offered shyly. ~How can you be so close to the people you have to command?~

Noitefel smiled and ran his hands lightly along Prowl's sides, encouraging the pleasure of the contact to flow through his lover's neural net. ~For the Guard, it is what we are. A tight-knit team who intend only to serve the Prime. We do not have normal programming, especially when it comes to each other. I am close to them because the programming demands that I know them, know their reactions as intimately as I know my own. That same programming produces pride if one dies in service to the Prime, and only small grief when one is lost otherwise. I came on line a pre-programmed Guard. I have never been anything else. I can not explain it better.~

~And it's in their coding to trust you implicitly,~ Prowl said understandingly, pressing into his touches subconsciously. ~Maybe now that the war will start slowing down here, I can afford a little more leeway.~

~I think you might be surprised at how much your crew trusts you,~ Noitefel murmured as he continued the soothing contact, careful not to give into his more lustful urgings. ~I know you don't perceive it, but I can see the looks you get. Even the Twins respect your abilities despite how much your rule-abiding nature irritates them. They care about you. It hurts many of them to think you do not care in return.~

~It's going to take a lot of getting used to,~ Prowl admitted softly. ~Want to get something to drink?~ He suggested as they moved somewhat towards the bar.

~Certainly,~ he nearly purred, a hint of desire leaking into his voice as they walked towards the human tending the Cybertronian sized bar. ~Everyone went all out to supply it well today. Sideswipe even brewed two of Whippoorwill's recipes; I think you would like one of them. Mild, sweet, with a gentle buzz that is difficult to overcharge on.~

~Sounds good,~ Prowl smiled, following him over. "How are things going?" He asked Sparkplug when they reached him.

The human smiled up at them, still feeling a little weird at seeing the intimacy between machines, especially ones he thought of as male. "Nicely busy. You guys sure like your high grade."

"What soldiers don't?" Prowl chuckled lowly. "Particularly ones who've seen the enemy general go down hard? It'll probably flare up again when the Cybertronian contingent arrives."

"I'm sure," Sparkplug chuckled himself. "So what's your poi-preference?" he changed his wording when it occurred to him that this particular pair might just take 'poison' literally.

"Noitefel suggested one of the milder blends - it sounds like a good idea to me," Prowl said easily. "Help me relax a little bit for once, maybe."

"The pink-silver one that Sideswipe brewed," the Guard suggested with an affectionate caress down Prowl's back strut before his hand settled on the side of Prowl's hip to caress his thumb along it lightly. "I'd like the white one."

"The milder of Whippoorwill's recipes," Sparkplug grinned and pulled out the requested cubes. "It's nice to see you trying to relax," he grinned at them both. "How we just need to get Red Alert out here."

"Skjöldur is planning on trying to relieve him in a couple joor," Noitefel chuckled. "Whether she manages is another matter."

"With all these people around, it's not likely," Prowl mused. "I take it you don't mind leaving Prime with a lighter guard as much now, since Megatron's gone?"

"That, the number of loyal bots here and the Tezita," Noitefel nodded as they picked up their cubes and moved off slowly as the Twins came up for another round for themselves. "The fact that we are all _here_, even if not officially on duty, and Prime asked me to try and give Red Alert an opportunity to join in. It is a night for celebration like no other."

"Well, I wish her luck then. I worry about him sometimes," Prowl admitted, taking a sip and letting the gentle buzz of the charge spread through him. It was mild, as promised, but still this cube would be enough to looses his social protocols if he didn't fight it too much.

"As Prime worried about you," he murmured softly and drew his lover a little closer in the dimmer light out outside the dance floor and main ring of tables. "A handful of mechs on this base take far more of the weight of responsibility than they should."

"Mmm... being the only mechs who can do the jobs does that," Prowl pointed out, more comfortable now that they weren't being watched as closely, pressing against Noitefel lightly. "I'm sparked for it though. The same with Ratchet, really. Red Alert is another story entirely."

"Yes, I read those reports," he murmured and leaned closer himself, drawing his lover just a little closer as they sipped the mild high grade. "It's good he found a duty post where it is as much an asset as it is. Perhaps once the war dies down the resources can be put towards finding the fix for him."

"Ratchet's eager to get to work," Prowl smiled slightly. "I think he's fond of him, though it could just be wanting to get to work on a challenging case too."

"A challenge that doesn't involve battle damage and likely lost friends," Noitefel murmured and snuck a quick kiss to the edge of the door wing near him now that they were in the near-darkness outside the main party grounds. "It has been far too long for him, I expect. For anyone but the true warriors."

"Long enough I'm not sure I'll be able to go back to work," Prowl admitted softly. "As much as I'm looking forward to it... do you want to go somewhere more private?" He asked his lover quietly.

"If it means I get to keep touching you," he rumbled softly. "I believe we've done our due diligence as officers."

"I do too," Prowl said, touching his shoulder lightly while they had a little privacy yet.

::My quarters?:: He suggested silently. ::We can keep a monitor active just in case.::

Noitefel nodded slightly as they parted enough to walk easily, the Guard's door-wing over Prowl's and covering part of his back and head in an unmistakable claim and protective gesture all in one.

They made their way back into the ship, grateful it was pretty well empty as they made their way to Prowl's quarters. He activated a monitor on what was going on outside, taking a quick look around before he returned his focus to Noitefel a little sheepishly.

"Sorry - should've waited a bit longer, shouldn't I?" He asked, returning and giving his lover a gentle kiss.

"There is no need to apologize for being who you are," he smiled gently and drew the slightly smaller mech close for a longer, warmer kiss. "I was looking too."

"Good," Prowl smiled slightly. "Now... I think we were going to work on relaxing a bit more, now that everybody's not watching?" He reached back, running his hands gently along Noitefel's door-wings.

"Yes," he moaned softly, sliding his own hands along the lower edge of Prowl's door-wings as he leaned in for a kiss. "Or perhaps working each other up," he murmured as his mouth moved down Prowl's jaw to nip a neck cable lightly.

"Funny how often those two blend together," Prowl chuckled, his engine purring as he leaned his head back with a low groan of pleasure, his fingers working along Noitefel's surface, tracing each contour he found.

Noitefel just smiled and continued to kiss his way along his lover's jaw, to his neck. It was an effort to control the trembling of his door-wings as much as he did. Eight months sharing Prowl's berth and the desire, the _need_ that could sap the strength from his frame at a touch from his lover and if anything the fire was burning hotter than before.

He moaned, his head falling back and optics dimming almost completely when Prowl's hands slipped into the hinges of his door-wings. "Y-you keep that up I won't make it to the berth."

"Who said I wanted to let you?" Prowl teased him lightly, nuzzling his neck lightly as his hands continued their familiar explorations. "Yours are so much more sensitive than mine are, that's hardly my fault."

Noitefel's fingers curled against Prowl's side-seams, seeking to return at least some of the pleasure he was receiving. He wanted to tell his lover it wasn't sensor sensitivity, but _Prowl_ that was doing this to him. All that came out of his vocalizer was garbled in static though, and his head fell forward. He pressed his face against Prowl's neck, trembling as his grip shifted to clutch his lover to him, knowing he only had moments before pleasure crested into an uncontrollable overload.

Prowl let his mind brush against Noitefel's, offering him an extra level of intimacy as they pressed against each other, his fingers tracing up his sides agonizingly slowly, the sense of love and intimacy more potent now.

It was more than Noitefel could take and he muffled wordless cries against his lover's neck as his frame shook, energy rushing across circuits and his neural net in a cascade that bordered on pain in its intensity. He crushed Prowl to him, his muscle cables tightening at the conflicting signals. Door-wings pressed even harder into the touch that had set it off, trying to prolong the experience.

A half-thought, something too fragmented to be conscious, reached Prowl; a growing desire for this to not end and the sense that it was not an entirely welcome feeling.

"Is something wrong?" Prowl asked him as he recovered, guiding him to his berth and laying down next to him.

"No," Noitefel shifted so he could kiss his lover and give attention to the black and white's door-wings.

"It feels like there is," Prowl groaned, trying to keep focused. "Something that's bothering your processors." A part of him was telling him to shut up and not break the mood, but he couldn't help being concerned.

Noitefel paused, then lowered his head to obscure his face when he tensed. "I'm sorry I let that through," he murmured, his touches turning soothing. "My code is modifying. It's an unpleasant experience like this."

"You don't have to apologize for something like that," Prowl reassured him with a gentle kiss. "It's not like you can help it... is it something you need to deal with?"

A long, low sigh came from his vents before he looked up to meet his lover's optics. "I am, it is merely ... distressing to be reminded of. Prime approves, more than I can understand. The rest is time." He shifted, his fingers tracing tender patterns on Prowl's door-wings as he rested his head on Prowl's chassis, listening to his spark-beat. "I am beginning to desire something beyond my duties."

"Believe it or not, that's a good sign," Prowl murmured, rubbing his back gently, encouraging his lover to relax. "Being able to go further than just what the job requires... gives you a reason to outlast it."

Noitefel couldn't help the strange chuckle that escaped or how pathetic it sounded, though the back of his processors pointed out it was better than the hysterical sounds he was making when he figured out why his attention would wander at times. "I was never intended to. Guards _don't_, not sparked ones." He shuddered, struggling to explain how absolutely terrifying it was to loose his grip on the existence he'd come back for.

"Meu un suave, calm down," Prowl told him firmly, the full voice of a commander behind the order. "Is it changing your ability to _perform_ your job? Not at the sort of subconscious constancy you're used to demanding, but to do it when you're thinking about it?"

"No," he murmured, his frame slowly relaxing as the panic settle in response to the order and his processors fell into a much more normal pattern. "No, it does not," he said a little more firmly. "I do not understand it however. I have had lovers, long term ones even, yet in less than a stellar cycle my code is being rewritten over it now. It is not as if I am not needed as a campaign tactician."

"Is _that_ the part that's changing, though?" Prowl asked him gently. "I've seen it happen before. It's different, but not really altering the important parts of you. I don't know why it's happening to you now, instead of with somebody else... but it's not a bad thing."

A low, almost bemused chuckle greeted that statement. "It does mean that if Prime ever doesn't need me, you're going to have your hands full of a very lost mech," he reached out to caress Prowl's far door-wing and sobered. "It's probably now because Prime _wants_ it. Not you and me, specifically, but he seems to have issues with the idea of just being there to do a job. Guard programming reacts like that, adapts to the needs of our Prime. It doesn't change fundamentals, I'll always be a tactician and loyal, but if he needs me to ... to be less focused on him, it can happen. It still hurts, more than I expected it could."

"Hurts, or scares you?" Prowl asked him softly, with a gentle kiss. "There's a difference between the two... it's not that he doesn't need you, Noitefel. He does, and he knows it. He's never going to _make_ you leave your post as long as you can serve. But he needs officers who have something more to live for, something outside of _him_. There's a lot of _him_ that's tied up in needing _us_, and turning that around... it's kind of a confusing circle for him, I think," Prowl smiled gently.

"It's terrifying," Noitefel answered honestly, melting into the contact as his fingers continued to lightly explore Prowl's frame. "It hurts as well to break such deep rooted coding. Coming to terms with a Prime that has no grasp of what the Prime's Guard is..." he groaned his frustrations, his fingers curling as his door-wings hiked upwards and tensed. "There are joor I want to beat sense into him."

"The next Prime will probably be much better suited to the lifestyle," Prowl reassured him. "Whenever that happens. Like you all have been saying - the Matrix chooses the best mech for what it needs when it needs the new Prime," he soothed Noitefel, rubbing his side gently. "Remember who he was before, and what's known about him. And remember - he's lived through almost the entire war, from start to finish, on the front lines _without_ the Guard there. It doesn't make you less necessary, but it makes you necessary for different things."

A soft sound of enjoyment escaped Noitefel, his optics dimming in pleasure as he rested with much of his chassis in contact with his lover. "I know," he murmured, trying to return the touches, well aware that Prowl hadn't overloaded and he was quickly sliding towards recharge between the physical and emotional releases he'd already had. "It does not always make the transition easier. Thank you, for wanting to help me cope."

"If you'd rather recharge right now, I can wait," Prowl offered, kissing him gently and found the contact returned with more affection than usual. "It's not a big deal."

"Perhaps not," Noitefel smiled and shifted, claiming a slightly more heated kiss before sliding his glossa along Prowl's lower lip, asking for entrance. "But you are so beautiful when you're lost in pleasure."

"No cop should ever be called beautiful," Prowl mock-grumbled before returning the kiss, pressing close and doing his best to relax, just listening for signs of any disturbances outside. He didn't hold back the moan and slight arch into Noitefel's touch when fingers pressed against the sensitive edges of his door-wings, working towards the protected edges near his back.

"Perhaps for a few joor you are no more a cop than I am a Guard," he rumbled seductively. "Just Prowl and Noitefel."

"Fair exchange," Prowl groaned lowly, shifting to let Noitefel at his back. "Try taking some time out after a few insane orn."

"In hope of many calmer ones to come," Noitefel shivered at the expanse of door-wing presented to him. He settled with his knees against his lover's hips and slid his palms slowly along the center of each wide expanse, following the line between black and white. It was all too easy for his processors to replay exactly what that felt like and his own door-wings quivered lightly. "I wonder who the crew was more shocked about entering a relationship."

"Mmm ... that would be me," Prowl groaned lowly, resting on his front, pressing into his touches. "They didn't really know you, or see you turn down Ezara flat," he offered, engine rumbling lowly as the most sensor-rich part of his frame outside his hands was stroked, caressed and gently worked to a state of quivering heat.

"True," he smiled down at his lover, soaking in the pleasure of doing this to him. A Prowl that felt good and relaxed was a joy in it's own right, and he was beginning to admit to himself that he was completely addicted. "Not many want to, and fewer have maintained it."

"Mmm ... though she has calmed down since then," he groaned, his optics dimming occasionally. "Love the way you touch me," he murmured, losing his focus on the conversation.

"Good," Noitefel leaned forward and kissed the back of his neck as he gripped the lower edge of both door-wings and stroke outward with enough pressure to set the sensor net on fire. "Because my door-wings have fewer sensors than yours."

"Mmm... I guess I do a good job then," Prowl groaned as his wings quivered lightly. "Am I really that different from the others?"

"Yes," he murmured, the admission still painful and more than a little unsettling. "You are." He continued to stroke the wide black and white door-wings in front of him, gradually shifting his touch towards pleasuring his lover into a slow build to an intense overload. "No one else has ever..." he struggled for words before finding his voice. "It would break me to loose you," he barely whispered, absolutely terrified of the truth in those words but forcing himself to say them, to openly acknowledge the truth.

"You won't," Prowl reassured him, his voice trembling for entirely different reasons. "Not any time soon... Primus," he groaned, his optics dimming briefly before he surrendered to the imminent overload.

Strong, knowing fingers dug into the joints of his door-wings, intensifying and prolonging the overload until Prowl cried out wordlessly, his body arching in his ecstasy as electricity ran rampant across his systems.

Gently Noitefel withdrew his fingers, his touch turning tender and soothing once more as he eased his lover down from the high. When Prowl finally gave a contented sigh, he shifted to the side and helped Prowl settle himself so they could recharge while touching and not wake with sore door-wings.

"Thank you," Noitefel whispered with a good night kiss, unconcerned with whether Prowl actually heard him.


End file.
